limbo
For those of you who don't know, I'm writing from limbo. I'm homeless -- the situation with the door-banging neighbors (I'm sorry, referenced posts removed) having become untenable -- but certainly not friendless. Not friendless by far. In fact, I've got a surfeit of friends who without discussion have offered the same line over and over, "I have a spare room. Come stay with me. As long as you like." It's overwhelming and wonderful, all this love directed at me. So much so, I whistled today on my way into work, much I might add, to the amusement of my boss.
"What's wrong with you?" he wanted to know.
"I don't know," I said. "I'm happy?"
And all day long. "Did you hear Jill whistling this morning? I think there's something wrong with her."
What he doesn't know, what I didn't know, is that I may have been lonely. Not sad lonely, but isolated in my own thing a bit lonely, leaving cabinets perennially open, shoes in the middle of the hall and the bed always unmade. Because who cares, right? A dinner of cereal from the box is a fine meal. Or so I thought.
But right now I'm living with two good friends who have dinner ready when I get home, space for Fred on their couch, post work conversation to spare and room in their Sunday wash for a few of my whites. My life has improved drastically in limbo and I'm having a hard time finding the motivation to leave.
But here's what I know: I'm open. In this uncertain space, I feel the freedom to wait. The right situation will present itself. The most-best decision will be an easy one. And I will land on my feet in a better place than I could have ever fathomed for myself. It's all in God's hands and that has ever been the most comfortable spot of all.
In the meantime, Rikki is making her grandmother's soup for dinner. Audra and Satchel have a bed to spare. Esther's promised a weekend of wine and laughter. Molly and Cara and Monica can't say enough about their extra rooms while Betsy ups the ante with a pool and Pamela keeps stressing that her fish needs a sitter.
If you haven't ever been to limbo, I highly recommend it. No passport required. Traveling companions, a must. Itinerary? Pleasantly undetermined.
Night, y'all!
"What's wrong with you?" he wanted to know.
"I don't know," I said. "I'm happy?"
And all day long. "Did you hear Jill whistling this morning? I think there's something wrong with her."
What he doesn't know, what I didn't know, is that I may have been lonely. Not sad lonely, but isolated in my own thing a bit lonely, leaving cabinets perennially open, shoes in the middle of the hall and the bed always unmade. Because who cares, right? A dinner of cereal from the box is a fine meal. Or so I thought.
But right now I'm living with two good friends who have dinner ready when I get home, space for Fred on their couch, post work conversation to spare and room in their Sunday wash for a few of my whites. My life has improved drastically in limbo and I'm having a hard time finding the motivation to leave.
But here's what I know: I'm open. In this uncertain space, I feel the freedom to wait. The right situation will present itself. The most-best decision will be an easy one. And I will land on my feet in a better place than I could have ever fathomed for myself. It's all in God's hands and that has ever been the most comfortable spot of all.
In the meantime, Rikki is making her grandmother's soup for dinner. Audra and Satchel have a bed to spare. Esther's promised a weekend of wine and laughter. Molly and Cara and Monica can't say enough about their extra rooms while Betsy ups the ante with a pool and Pamela keeps stressing that her fish needs a sitter.
If you haven't ever been to limbo, I highly recommend it. No passport required. Traveling companions, a must. Itinerary? Pleasantly undetermined.
Night, y'all!
posted by jill at 4/22/2006 12:13:00 AM
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