This week began with a visit from long-time friends from New Jersey that still live on the same road as Rich and I had at the New Jersey Shore. They were visiting other NJ refugees that now reside along the coast about an hour from here and spent the day learning about rural Central Florida. Filled with winding roads, many still dirt, pastures and woodlands filled with palms and clusters of banana plants, it’s a region that fascinates those who have never ventured inland, a place known as Old Florida.
As I’d predicted, the first words out of their mouths when they pulled up to the log home were, “How did you ever find this place?”
I’ve often been asked that, and of course there are answers both practical and metaphysical.
I love spending time with those I’ve known for a long time, in this case nearing 30 years, especially if they knew my late husband well. The upbeat banter of “remember whens” and inquiries of mutual friends is very healing, especially on a warm and sunny day dining along the backdrop of the remarkable St. John’s River.
It was good to catch up on our old neighborhood and sharing New Jersey quirks and life with David, who is a native son of the South. While my good “old” friends miss Rich’s presence in their lives, they are also happy that I’ve started over, so to speak, but we are all glad to be connected and we hope to venture north when the weather improves there and the heat descends upon us here.
On Wednesday, I was to meet the movers at my house in Georgia to pull its content to furnish the canal house I’m restoring in Satsuma, Florida. My home has been listed for sale since September, and as the housing market remained sluggish, I thought it might be easier to just rent it empty. This was a big deal, another step in moving away from the past I’d shared with Rich here. I even had a place for each love seat, sofa and tables.
For some reason, just about a week ago, I began thinking I wasn’t quite ready for this step. The canal house is not quite prepared for content and I just wasn’t feeling “it”. I’d placed a call to my movers and left a message that I was thinking of postponing the move date. As I went about my business, I read a post on Social Media that a home in my gated community had experienced a bad fire. Further news confirmed the home was inhabitable, but the lovely black lab dog named Odi had been rescued as his owners were not at home at the time of the fire.
I didn’t know this couple, but my friends did. A notice put out by our HOA that the residents were seeking a long-term furnished rental that was followed by friends inquiring if I would consider renting my home for a year-plus as the fire-damaged home was renovated. Fast forward to this morning as a lease has now been signed and I’m engulfed on my third-wave of clearing out closets and the garage that began in 2021.
Although I’d met the woman homeowner casually, yesterday she came to the house and we had a nice talk and walk through. She has an amazing attitude and is grateful to have a comfortable place for her family to call home, a haven in a storm.
This third phase of clean out has me going through the belongings of every family member that has passed. The trick is to keep just a few things and let the rest go to new homes where they will be loved and appreciated anew. That is my mantra, anyway. Sometimes it even works.
Alas, My Villa Haven as I call that home, does not appear to be through with me. Every time I try to say farewell, it somehow brings me back and holds me in place, even if I’m not physically there. I’m sorry for the dissruption and loss experienced by my new tenants, but glad I didn’t make that move that I wasn’t ready to make and the home remains a true comfort for others. I hope they are content and hopeful here as their own home and lives rise from the ashes of change.
Have a good weekend.
