Back to school fever is upon many of us yet again. On top of that, our household has the added bonus of moving next weekend which is both not cool and going to be deliciously sweet when all the dust settles. And at the moment, I am at the mall with two nearly 16 year old girls. The times, they are good.

Things are most definitely changing. My son is finally moving out and there are multitudes of new memories to be made at the new homestead. Funny how an impromptu move can instill excitement of a great new chapter, only days prior the idea of picking up yet again disgusted me.

I love my son, don’t get me wrong but those of you who have been where I am with a twentysomething in the basement, letting him spread his proverbial wings and fly a short distance away is a pretty glorious thing. Soon I can step foot into my own basement without having to ask permission. Soon I can buy groceries without one day later, hearing complaints about Jeremy ate all the such ‘n such. This is all fantastically exciting! I shall be sure to document my unbridled joy.

With a new place comes a new start, as proverbial or literal as you want it to be. To some, that fifteen dollar shower curtain means contained water. To others, it can mean a portal to another dimension and it is to be revered as such. Those new views, whether indoor or out, will be a breath of fresh air (the outdoor one quite literally). It is also a new place for me to create. To welcome fresh ideas and to put together the best work I’ve ever done.

To possess a living place that was previously possessed by many other possessors, one must purge or cleanse the space. A praying style man, I use oil and prayer, walking from room to room, cleansing. To some, this may sound insane but it actually makes perfect sense. The native americans use smudging. Others use crystals to harness negative energy. Some even slaughter a teenage goat and paint the closet doors in fresh blood. Ok, no they don’t. Nobody does that. Or do they…

I’m also a man of great hope. I constantly trust that things will work out. But ya know what? I wanna start trusting that circumstances will exceed simply working out. I plan on hope-success, if there were such a sexy term. Not a blind faith but a secure sense that I no longer will dwell in the realm of surviving. I will go beyond that, though living and breathing ain’t nothin’ to shake a branch at. Or even a stick, persay.

Only one thing stands in the way of this new found life: one week of pressure packing, blood induced cleaning, my back to stay strong, extra help to arrive, the landlords aggreement on my full deposit back and good weather. Oh, and my basic sanity. Let’s do this.

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