I moved house three times in the past 14 months. I am hoping the next move at the end of February will be the last for a long time. It’s an exciting prospect. The place I am in now (pictured above) is a fully furnished 150-year-old farmhouse tucked off the town’s main road, a safe haven for both my eldest daughter and myself to recover from a series of misadventures. It has served its purpose, but I am anxious to be in the newer, newly renovated and unfurnished rental so that I can surround myself with my personal belongings that have been stored this past year. 

Here there are benedictions everywhere. Our large, treed yard is a haven for birds, chipmunks, and squirrels, all of which are currently entertaining us at the two hanging feeders. In the summer, the yard was full of flowers and birdsong. Now, at the very end of December, birds of every color - gray and white juncoes, flashy blue jays, brilliant red cardinals, brown and white striped sparrows, rosy breasted finches and gray-brown doves peck at the scattered seed spilled on the ground by the perching birds and the feisty squirrels who rock the feeders with their acrobatics. The neighborhood cat appears now and then to disperse them all. He sits, puzzled, under the feeder, wondering where all his prey has gone.

Snow and ice are thick on the ground and the cold outside creeps inside through ill-fitting windows and doors. We keep snuggly throw blankets in every room, wear insulated slippers and several layers of clothing. Christmas has come and gone. We will dismantle the tree after New Year’s Day has passed, packing the tinsel, the baubles, and decorations away in their boxes ready for the move. Slowly, over the next two months, I will gather the items we’ve brought here to make it more homelike and replace them with the things that were here for our use - silverware, pots and pans, dishes. It’s amazing what one accumulates, even in a furnished let!

The wind is picking up as I write. Though it chills me, it feels somehow appropriate that the wind should blow just now. I need something at my back to push me forward through all the machinations of moving - sorting, packing, arranging for the movers, the flurry of small deliberate acts like alerting the Post Office, the DMV, and the numerous organizations that must be informed of our new address. I count up all the times I’ve moved in my nearly 80 years, totaling 15 moves over 60 years. It is time to settle down again, to make a home in a new place, to find peace and safety in the company of family members and friends yet to be made.