Thursday, October 3, 2013

BYE-BYE BARNUM & BAILEY

The circus left town.  Without me.
Two years ago this month, my husband was offered a job in San Antonio, Texas.  The offer was too good to pass up.  During the ensuing months, I became star of the Big Top.  I juggled like my life depended on it…because it did. 
In December 2011, I moved my husband to Texas and set up his apartment. 
During the winter, I finished a kitchen remodel in St. Louis and laid 1,200 sq. feet of wood flooring.
I put our house on the market in March and sold it six weeks later.
That summer, I put all of the family’s belongings in storage and moved the children and I into a corporate apartment, as there were no rentals available in my son’s school district until August.
When August came, we retrieved some things from storage and moved into a Kirkwood School District apartment.  During a quick trip to San Antonio, Tim and I decided to have a house built.
Two return trips to Texas in the fall provided opportunity for me to make decorating decisions for the house. 
Throughout my son’s Senior year, we visited prospective colleges and kept up with the resulting paperwork.  (He visited ten schools.)
With the arrival of another spring (We’re up to May 2013, in case you’ve lost track.), I moved my daughter from Truman State University to Des Moines, Iowa for her internship.  My son graduated from Kirkwood High School and went to orientation at Drake University.  We collected our things from storage and the apartment, and moved them to San Antonio.
I kept all the balls in the air.  I kept moving.
from the U.N.I. years, when I first encountered juggling
Years ago, I was a theatre major at the University of Northern Iowa.  As a requirement for an acting class, I had to learn to juggle.  It wasn’t that the professor thought we would literally join the circus, but it was an exercise in concentration.  I never was very good at it.  (My lack of any type of athleticism was apparent.)  My most uninterrupted tosses were accomplished by facing a wall.  With only three feet between me and the wall, the balls had few escape routes.
The balls of the last two years never escaped, but a few certainly went astray.  Now, however, the last ball is put away.
What happens next?
Journalist Cokie Roberts once said:  “Women…often they’ve spent their early years juggling so many different activities that they were simply making it through the day.  But then they reach a point where they are able to integrate their life experiences.” 
I juggled so much in the last two years that I felt lucky to simply make it through each day.  What happens when the balls are put away though?  That’s what I’m trying to figure out.  What life experiences can I integrate into this new life, in this new place?  What happens when time (which there never seemed to be enough of) returns to its normal pace. 
In short, I’m breathing again – taking big gulps of air and exhaling with a well-deserved sigh.
I’m writing again.  (This blog is proof positive.)  I hope to return to the book that was in progress two years ago.
I’m meeting new people – through organizational means, as well as the former Chicagoans who happened to walk by our house with their dog.
I’m finding ways to volunteer.
I’m taking care of myself.
I’m finding time for me.
And I am exhaling.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes, the balls are still flying.  One, two, three balls - no wall to rein them in - picking up speed.  A drop is imminent. 

My eyes squeeze shut.  I blink the threat away.  And breathe.

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