The boxes are unpacked. Mostly.
The house is functional but not yet cozy.
I pause while I’m walking around the house. I’m trying to
remember that the light switch for the kitchen light is outside the kitchen and the light switch for the guest bathroom is
on the right when it should clearly
be on the left. I still marvel how
creaky the wood floor is. I have spaces I don’t know what to do with, such as
the gigantic gaping hole above the fireplace mantle, intended for the TV. Neither
our TV nor any of our picture frames fit the space, and I am not overly
interested in addressing it right now.
In other words, I
still feel awkward in my own house.
However, I can now drive around town without the GPS! Most
of the time, anyway.
I have decided on which grocery store and gas stations I’ll
frequent. I know how many minutes to
allot to drive to the children’s schools. I have located and registered each
child for one after-school extracurricular activity. We are in search of a
church home.
I am living in the time “In between”, and I’m waiting. Novelty is wearing off, but I’m not yet
established. To not feel like a newbie
takes time, of course. I am impatient.
I’m waiting.
* For school to start.
* To establish a routine.
* To find my peeps.
* To decide on my time, my schedule.
“In between” time is lonely but also offers possibility. It is a time for reflection and
reinvention. Old rules from the last
place may not apply. It’s a short-term
assignment. I have 10 months of living
before the next Change & Transition of another military move. (This PCS may be the year of fitness. I may live at the gym!)
I’m still learning to navigate through, wondering when “I’m
new in town” becomes “I live here,” when I feel at home.
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