An ongoing theme for me in the past few months has been learning to be present. I’m not good at that. I love telling stories about things that have happened, and I love to imagine all the possibilities and potentials of the future. Being here, now, is often difficult. These last couple weeks in Durango have/are testing my resolve to live in the present moment on all levels. It is taxing to engage people you are leaving behind at a goodbye party and to then focus on packing boxes or driving to the dump, then to remember to call the utilities and grab a burger at the Palace, because it’s going to be a while before you get back there. Left to my own devices, I think I’d be sitting in the corner drooling with piles of partially eaten junk food lying around me while Jenn runs back and forth from room to room with smoke pouring out of her ears.
Fortunately, we’ve chosen a different approach and, as exhausted as we are on every possible level, I think it is working for us. The packing is getting done (that’s what I keep telling myself), the kids are punching out their Durango bucket lists, Jenn has closed out the school year, and I had my last improv show this weekend. In each of these profound moments, we’ve been present. I know, because I get that look from Jenn or one of the kids in the midst of the party or packing. No words, just that look that says, “this is really happening, isn’t it?”
When we pull into Nampa next week, we will be completely spent and oddly satisfied. We are sad, overwhelmed, and we can’t find our toothbrushes, but we are ready. We have finished well, and we are ready to begin well. We truly cannot wait to meet our new family and get to know our new town. I can only assume that we will find the same principles of being fully present while leaving a place will apply to learning to be in a new place.