The mighty Rogue River languishes before me on my balcony perch in Grants Pass, Oregon. People drift past in kayaks, tubes and inflatable rafts. Here the river is lazy, stretching out before it channels through rocky narrows and turns tumultuous. And so I watch and soak in the beauty, the quiet, the soulfulness of this busy, but uncrowded area.
The river is like a balm, soothing the anxiousness and worry away that I have been carrying for what seems like all this year. Most of the anxiety stems from selling our home of twenty-five years. It sold without being listed, our inspection went well, and once the appraisal comes through, we’re pretty much good to go.
Only where do we go? We have an offer hanging out there like a dangling carrot, but until our appraisal comes through we can’t promise some $60k in cash to buy this manufactured home we set our hearts on. So if the people get an offer better than ours, we have 72 hours to counter. I try to forget about the fact that the phone could light up any minute with such news, yet I remain hopeful.
The house was in an outer area of a smaller town. It smelled like the stinky canine foursome owned by this woman and her daughter. In fact, the smell lingered there all day in my nostrils! The carpets, flooring and paint all need to be replaced or redone. So I’m hopeful no one else will want a non turn-key, smelly home, especially this weekend. By this coming week, the appraisal on our house should be done, and then we can confidently go ahead with our offer (without the contingency that our home must sell).
So much to process right now. I’m still recovering from the spine surgery. Am doing quite well, but I still feel most comfortable with a heating pad practically attached. I worry about a family member who has cancer, but I know he’s going to beat it. It hurt so much to see him suffering and not have his usual strength. Now that his chemo blasts are done, he’s recovering his strength and mobility. Am so glad.
It’s been a tough year. Losing my son’s girlfriend was like losing a family member. I wish what happened hadn’t. I can’t get the closure I would have liked, but I didn’t make the choices she did. My son and she were having troubles before the shit went down, but I just wish the shit never came down the way it did. I know it takes two to make a mess of things, but yeah, what can you do? I’ve always stepped back and been able to say “this is not my script”. And it isn’t.
So the river is there washing some of my angst away. It doesn’t pay anymore to get into the who said what and did what or didn’t do what. It is what it is.
A river balm. Amen.
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