So, the other day I popped the question. Not the happy one. But the other, the sad one. Are you totally through with us? I’ve been postponing this moment for a few years now. Years of hoping that we would find our way back to each other. In a new, more mature way. Turns out it wasn’t meant to happen. I finally figured that. And asked the question. And got the dreaded response. It was my worst nightmare come true. But it has also liberated me.
I have a recurring dream: I am crouching on the cliff edge of a very high mountain, paralyzed by the proximity of the deep abyss that I cannot see but feel, scared out of my depth of losing my grip and falling. Curiously, one night I somehow knew in my dream that I was dreaming and even though I could not wake myself from it I could think about it while I was in it. So I thought to myself: Hang on, if I’m dreaming then nothing can really happen to the real-life me, right? So what if I just let go and see what happens? And so I did….
My list has caught up with me. I didn’t think I was ready. But life thought I was. Last Monday I got a text from my aunty whom I’ve met only once in my entire life – three years ago, shortly after I first saw my dad again, for the first time after 29 years of no contact whatsoever. Last Monday my aunty told me he’d been brought into hospital and my very first thought was: I need to get there. I need to get there. And way earlier than I ever thought I would I did item number two of my no-regret bucket list…
Whenever I move houses – and I do so very frequently for professional reasons – I strive to turn my new place into a real home, my home, as quickly as I can. Last time around I set a new record: I finished the whole thing in just two days of intensive laboring – except for the last five percent. It’s the last boxes that don’t get unpacked. The one or two lamps that don’t get put up. The shoe cabinet that never gets assembled. I don’t know why. I always end up not finishing the last five percent.
So I’ve started this decluttering project of mine. Beginning with the guest room. Well, at least that was the plan. You know that feeling? This urge that sneaks up on you, suggesting to do something different from what you planned on doing? Yep. This one. The procrastinator.