Decompress at Home

I sit here in my house, the home I scrimped and saved for, the home I chose to live in. I have lived here longer than in any other home I lived in before.  Even growing up, I lived with my parents in the same house for 11 years.  I've been here for 15 years now.  And I find great comfort in that thought. 

My house. My things around me. Not that I'm attached to them in the way mom is to her stuff.  For me, things come and go. I am able to release things when they no longer serve a purpose.

I grew up learning that things should be preserved, passed down from generation to generation.  And I have a few things that I hope my daughter will want to keep.  But I've learned that there's more joy in letting these things go to her now, being able to use them in her own grown up life rather than hoarding them until I die.

And yet today, I seem frozen in place. I had plans to do this, that and the other, but seem incapable of doing any of it. I find that happens most often after I've spent days with mom, and doing nothing seems to decompress the stress. 

Thank goodness for good books!! And HULU!! 

PS: that was Friday, and I got my act together and am doing better today!