March 16, 2014: A Thoughtful Spot

My thoughtful spot
Packing for Denver this weekend took on a whole new dimension. There was a different kind of excitement then our usual get-away weekends. This weekend we moved into a new house. A second home. The Omaha home stays, but a Denver home has been added. Our new chapter into married life.

Moving is not something I have done often in my forty-six years. In fact, I can count on my hand the number of homes I have had in my lifetime. No nomad existence for me. So having another house with my name on the title is a big deal and not one I take lightly.

Friday, I rushed home mid-morning to pack a bag in a way I had never packed before. What to take to fill my thoughtful spot? What clothes and jewelry to import to a new home in Denver? With an empty carry-on bag staring at me from my bed top, I pondered these important questions.

It didn't take me long to run through the house and grab those items that tugged at my heartstrings as "must haves" in a place that will be called my home.

The lingering thought over the last month was how to separate my wardrobe. I found that the first steps to this lofty goal were actually fun. New alternatives to freshen up a now vast wardrobe. Separation wasn't so bad.

I chose one pair of cowboy boots out of four to make the transfer. The short tasseled brown pair gifted from my mom and previously worn by my mom made the cut. These well-worn numbers will have covered three home states of Arizona, Nebraska and now, Colorado.

Pondering my greatly anticipated thoughtful spot, I had bigger decisions to make. I went with my gut for this treasure selection. A plate with a favorite saying "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass, it's about learning to dance in the rain" and a cross made by my Grandma Gib in her final years at her nursing home were carefully packed into my bag. This same cross was the one placed on the hearth behind Garrett and I as we exchanged our wedding vows. Much sentimental value.

A few words on my thoughtful spot. Garrett and I spent months waiting for the perfect home to come up for sale in our desired neighborhood next to the foothills on the outskirts of Denver. After visiting one particular home, we fell in love. By the time we went to put in an offer an hour later, the home was sold to another buyer.

We were bummed. The vision that I couldn't forget was the little nook in the kitchen next to a sun-filled window. I pictured myself sitting in this spot with an opened window and humming computer. I could smell the banana bread baking in the oven and the sound of birds in the outside trees. This little spot had my name written all over it.

Recently I had a friend who was house hunting as well. He would look for his own quiet spot in each house. The spot was chosen based on where he could see himself reading a book and relaxing. He would sit for long periods of time in that spot, envisioning how he would feel living there. Others thought he was crazy. I completely understood.

In our case, God winked on us. The house we fell in love with came back on the market in the final hours before we bought a less desirable home. I got my thoughtful spot back. Destiny.

After a complete remodel with all the special touches to make it our own; warm paint colors, granite, cherry wood floors, finished basement...we moved in this weekend. With my bag filled with relocated wardrobe components and my sentimental knick-knacks, we boarded a plane on Friday. I felt like I did on my way to move into the college dorms many moons ago.

I packed no make-up or typical travel items. My goal is to make these trips to Denver no longer as a one-way traveler, but as a flight home.

Once in Denver, Garrett's thirteen year-old daughter, Lily, and I scoured Supertarget to stock a home for the necessities of two females. For my little desk were purchases of colored Sharpies, sticky notes, and wired organizers. Two hours later with a full cart and a Kuerig coffee machine, it was back to the bliss of those dorm living feelings of old.

As I carefully hung my clothes onto my new fancy "huggable" Target hangers, I was reminded of how most of my clothing carries some sentimental value to me. The benefit of my aversion to shopping is that when I do shop, it's typically on vacation or doing something fun at a far-away place. I positioned my dresses and sweatshirts by category and color sorting and smiled at the memories of NYC street vendors and shopping in Vail village after a hike with friends. Each piece has a story.

So that's my weekend. Hangers, a closet, a cross, and a little space to call my own.

Most people vie for the entertainment centers with 72 inch TV's, fancy offices or exquisite wine bars. I'm just fine with a closet to fill full of my colorful clothes and jewelry, and a little thoughtful spot by a window.

My carry-on bag came home empty tonight. I am now thinking about how I will fill it for my next trip. My mind is swirling with colorful visions of stationary, favorite photos, art projects and cookbooks. Oh, and did I mention we are on a golf course? Time to break out the golf clothes again.....

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