ESL Class: Around the World in 180 Minutes

A lot can happen in four months.

• Gabby Douglas makes history at the London Olympics
• Space probe Curiosity lands on Mars
• July 2012 designated the hottest month ever
• Mitt Romney becomes GOP presidential nominee
• The realization that I am an amazing woman*

But perhaps none of those things are more momentous to me than the realization that the adjustment is happening.

I knew it on the day that, for the first time, I refer to my tiny New York apartment as home. I'm not missing my two-bedroom, three-level home with garage like an amputee feeling a phantom limb.

Moving Out

It was on the train ride back from my sister's home in Virginia. I'm going home, I told myself and I smiled.

It happened when I was able to spend two days "at home" on vacation, able to just be in the apartment and stroll, without purpose, through my new neighborhood. A spa treatment at the Mandarin Oriental no doubt helped me relax. I had been exhausted -- almost to the breaking point -- and didn't even know it.

 At last, I was no longer feeling that I had no anchor. I had let go and was ready to move forward.

Officially, I landed here on  April 19 and immediately began thinking what a mistake.

How could I live in a shoebox? How could I live without an occasional drive in the convertible I gave up with the move? How could I live without my fabulous kitchen? No ice cream maker, container garden or Soda Stream.

View from the Box

I don't know when it happened, or how. But I stopped feeling a sense of deep loss over giving up my home.

 It's been replaced by acceptance and deep philosophical thoughts -- like  contemplating how much stuff one needs to be comfortable.

I accept that this is home for now. I also accept that it's not the end of the line -- with foresight and some careful planning, I can take another path whenever the need hits me.  It's a lonely life and I miss being in close proximity to friends. But I'm okay. I'm content -- for now.

*So I'm thinking contentment came when I was able to stop -- rest and breathe -- and marvel at all that I had handled rather flawlessly over the past four months:

• Landing a new job at this stage of my life
• Moving to Manhattan, from a house to a studio apartment
• Renting my house and all that it took to put it on the market
• Selling most of my stuff, putting the rest in storage
• Burying my mother, coming to grips with her departure from my life
• Trying to cope with grief
• Starting over from square one (I still don't have a dentist)
• Giving up my beloved convertible

Sayonara Saab

I accomplished a lot. Nothing fell through the cracks. Everything turned out fine. I'm a model of efficiency. I can get stuff done. I am amazing. (Ok, maybe not Maya Angelou  Phenomenal Woman amazing --  but still pretty amazing!)

I still feel sadness, the tears still come when I'm least expecting them and I still worry too much about tomorrow. But today, I'm okay and I'm ready for whatever the day may bring.