What Am I Wanting for the Rest Of My Life?

One would think that I would be all grown up and know what I want.  But apparently even at 66 I am neither fully developed nor sure of what I want.  I am feeling and sounding better after several days of a head and chest cold.  So while Gene attended a meeting this evening, I watched one of the Shrek movies.  (Told you I was not completely developed.)  One of the lines was something to the effect of he had a perfect life and was not happy when he had it.  He made a deal with another character and lost everything dear.

Sitting alone and thinking about that line I knew that was part of what I am feeling about moving.  Things are pretty sweet here.  Friends, really good friends.  Doctors, very good doctors.  A comfortable home in a comfortable neighbor hood.  A loving and accepting church family.  Due to aging, there is little other family left in the area.  The walk in shower with a small lip in our master bath is just right.  I could do without the excessive henbit every where in the back yard.  And the algae in the water feature.  And the moles/voles that reek havoc in my garden and yard.  But the former items out weigh the latter most of the time.  Except when I step in one of the (&$*EW mole/vole trenches and twist my ankle.

The problem is this.  I am afraid.  Afraid that if I do not move soon I will become entrenched as my mom and in laws did.  And then I will fight moving to a proper place when the time comes.  I am afraid to become too comfortable and cause unnecessary burdens on our son.  I am afraid of staying and I am apprehensive about leaving.

Two dear friends years ago would talk about moving elsewhere.  Both like me were brought to this area by their spouses.  One wanted to live near the ocean.  The other is sure the Arizona weather would be easier on her body.  I felt afraid they would leave me here, alone in Missouri.  Ocean girl and desert girl are still here.  Not sure that either will move from their Missouri homes.  And the older we all get the deeper the trench is.  Those high sides make it hard to see any other way than the trench in which we live.  The trench can feel like a comforting blanket or arms wrapped around me.  At the same time the trench can become a menace that is smothering me in its close dankness.

One thing is for sure.  I do not want to live a life so entrenched that I feel smothered.  A life that is so day in and out the same that it is a rut to nowhere.

Nope, I just want to have more time and money to do this with Gene:

Following fellow Jeepers through Florida small towns, 3-17-13.