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Light switches and Hawthorne

"Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and replanted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth."
Nathaniel Hawthorne
"The Custom House

This is my chance to strike my "roots into unaccustomed earth." After ten and a half years in Wausau I have no more than 186 hours left before I wave good-bye to the darling brown house on the hill. As the date draws nearer I find myself weeping while alone in the car or silently crying myself to sleep. I am, and have always been, a proponent of change (which is odd given what an anxious person I am). Why then are there tears? Am I afraid? Am I excited? Am I relieved? I think these are to some extent tears of grief. This is home.

I know where every light switch is, even at night and without my glasses.
This is the oven that taught me to bake.
I decided to paint this room purple.
This is the shower I re-grouted.
I've mowed this hill almost every week for years now.
This is where I drove the car into the wall of the garage.
My friends know where to find me here.
This was the one place I felt safe when ED was his strongest.

Even as I wipe away the rivers of tears that are running down my cheeks, I'm relieved. I'm ready for this, and when I'm feeling overwhelmed it's important for me to remember that I'm not going it alone. My family will be there too. As we tie up our loose ends here we are moving in shifts, so for a while it will just be my dad and I in Columbus (will he earn the title of "Superdad?"), but that's ok - I need the adventure.
There will be no more tears tonight. For now I'm comfortable with what my next few weeks hold - and, at least for now, I know where the light switches are.