Wednesday, December 26, 2012

The Last Time For So Many Things

This is an emotional day for me, for it will be the last time I do any number of things here in this house that's been my home for the past twelve years or so.  It's a  house I designed and built.  To begin with, it sits on the family property on which I was raised.  The view from my study allows me to see over the roof of my parent's home, the home they retired and died in, across the St. Johns River, the marsh now aglow in the morning sunrise, and recollect hundreds of childhood memories of growing up in a fish camp in, what was then, deep woods.  Of dozens of family holidays, the excitement of getting my first guitar for Christmas, my children and grandchildren being here for their Christmas with Memommy.  My wedding under the big oak tree.

The house is mostly empty now.  Almost ghostly.  The furniture was all moved on Sunday and boxes of stuff have slowly trickled away any semblance of "home."  The only thing left is my bedroom, which will go away tomorrow morning when Goodwill comes to collect it, bare utensils in the kitchen, and the folding table and chair from which I am now typing this, certainly my last post from this place.  Today, all of it will go too.

It's sometimes difficult to fight back the regrets and misgivings of leaving a place that holds so much of my life, of a marriage unraveled, the "what if's" of luck and circumstance that have lead to this moment.  But it was never my intention to die in this place.  There is nothing here for me anymore.  Strangers now live in Mom's house.  The once beautiful view across the river is now cluttered with smokestacks and port terminals.  The river itself so badly polluted that it breaks my heart to see it.

I don't like the city.  I long to live in the country where the air is clean and the view is the mist rising from the forest.  The first stop on that journey will be a friend's house until I get all of the legal stuff settled.  Then, a move to North Carolina where I will stay with my daughter and grandkids for a time until I can figure out how to reach my destination, Asheville.

In the meantime, all of the critters that I have been feeding over the years, the birds the squirrels the raccoons the opossums, are gathered at the window waiting for their breakfast.  So, I guess I will go feed them one last time and hope that the new owner will continue to do so as she said she would.

I'll probably not have internet access for a week or so but when I am able to sign back on I will try to catch up with you and your happenings and continue the tale of the Perils of Mr. Charleston.  Until then, take care.

23 comments:

  1. A good journey to you. I can feel the sorrow in leaving your home place.

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  2. Travel safely and well Carleton. You're leaving here thinking you have already seen so much but you haven't seen anywhere near all of the things to see, until like with the homestead you say "Enough." How many words are enough? I think Tolstoy and his magnum opus had it about "write."

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  3. i feel so sad for you right now but i know you will move on with grace and courage and ultimately be the better for it.
    xxxx

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  4. I wish you the best on your journey, Mr. C. Write soon. You take care, too.

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  5. You got me all choked up, Mr. C. Safe journies, wherever you go. I've heard good things about Asheville.
    Will be thinking of you. Happy New Year, I think you certainly are starting it off with a bang!

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  6. It seems we get more sentimental with age. Maybe because there are more things to remember. At least you have your daughter to be with and a chance to spoil your grandkids.

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  7. Wishing you joy and peace, a safe and pleasant journey to your new destination where new adventures and memories await. On behalf of all the squirrels, "thanks for the nuts".

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  8. Gosh, Mr. C, I will be thinking of you. Asheville is a wonderful place, but I understand that pain and weight of memories every good home brings us. I still have dreams about my place in Chicago and I moved 10 years ago. Be well--sending you a great big hug.

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  9. my heart breaks for you...take a side trip to West, Texas..buy you a skunk egg.

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  10. Sorry this is such a poignant moment for you. If nothing else, Asheville is beautiful, as is the surrounding countryside.

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  11. I've been through the melancholy of leaving a beloved home ... several times. What makes it bearable is the thought of something better ahead - and I have the feeling that Asheville might be that place for you.

    My oldest son lives near Greenville, SC - just a skip away. We may get to have a cup of coffee yet!

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  12. Thanks for all of your thoughts guys. But don't feel too sad for me for I'm not one to dwell on the past. The adventure begins.

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  13. My best to you on your new beginning. You seem to have a good attitude, and Asheville will give you good altitude.

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  14. Sorry to read this C. I share your love of that river and childhood memories of the same. Be safe my friend and know that there is something new and good awaiting you.

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  15. I'll open a couple of beers tonight and wish you the best.

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  16. Found you at Genial Misanthrope's site. Best wishes for an exciting new adventure.

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  17. That's hard. But I;m a believer that one door shuts and another opens, so I hope the move brings you much joy.

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  18. Oh my, oh my, oh my. My heart is breaking for you but glad you're "not one to dwell on the past." Asheville is a lovely place indeed but there are lots of other little hamlets in NC just as beautiful. I sincerely hope 2013 brings you new adventures, all of them equally exciting. Good luck.

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  19. Hope you find clear sailing, sir! If it's any consolation, you'll be close enough to the Smokies to get all the nature you can handle.

    I completely understand the pangs you feel when you see total strangers living in your parents' house...

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  20. When you get settled, play some blues on your guitar, always made me feel better in sad times. Asheville is a great place, been there several times. The whole area is wonderful. Good luck Mr. C.

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  21. Oh, dear Mr Charleston, I am so sorry. It’s a bugger when you have to up sticks and leave a well-loved home behind.
    I hope the move goes well and you will treat your new circumstances (and neighbours) kindly. They can’t help but love you.

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  22. :( aah, Asheville, my what a charming artsy place. You'll fit right in.

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