The Big Move 5: A White Christmas

It’s my last Christmas in Southern Oregon and nature is putting on a show I won’t forget. While I’m dreaming in my bed the snow keeps falling during the long night from Christmas eve to Christmas morning. In my dream I meet with the buyers of my house. They are choosing things in my house they can use; things I’m ready to let go. When they touch a piece of furniture, a painting, or open a kitchen drawer, the item changes color, changes form. They hold out a bundle of clothes for me and as they hand it over  the bundle becomes a baby. I am standing naked across from them, shivering from cold. My limbs are stiff and I have trouble holding the baby. I hesitate on what to do with it. As I stare at the pink child, I think, I’m done with babies in my life.

I wake up. I’m naked under the quilt. My feet are sticking out of the covers and feel icy cold. The morning light outside my window shows stiff branches covered with snow! I pull my feet under the covers, linger in its warmth and look out at the white world outside. I ponder my dream of the baby. Does the dream mean the buyers will have a baby in this house, or are they handing me a new life? Will I get a bundle of new energy, a "baby", from selling this house, I wonder? Of course I will walk away with a bundle of money. Will that be the energy I transfer to my next home? Or?
I roll over and look out at Mt Ashland in the distance, pristine in its whiteness. The snow cover  reshapes the world, wipes out all its blemishes. The restfulness of the snowy landscape lets me think. I wonder about the possible inner changes this move may bring. I believe that despite change the past connects with the future. The past energy, my life in this place, will linger awhile after I leave, just as a person’s energy hangs around after he or she dies. Eventually the energy of the past will disappear in the waves of new life that’ll inundate me.

Thoughts of my dream fade. Nature calls and drives me out of bed. I must ready myself for a snowy outside world.  I sleep in a cold bedroom and the frigid air makes me hurry to get downstairs where it’s warm.
It’s Christmas morning and I look forward to a quiet celebration with phone calls from loved ones. As I prepare a cup of tea the phone rings. My son asks me how I’m doing with the move. Not everyone leaves their cocoon so easily and becomes a butterfly, he says. I tell him I’m doing okay, I’m taking it one problem at a time, I say. The inspection report revealed just a few things to fix on the old house.  I tell him that we're having a white Christmas. Relieved he focuses on his own life again. I’m glad I’m managing this transition without needing his help.
While I enjoy my tea and a slice of Christmas stollen, I make plans for the day. I will take a day off from moving-related stuff, go for a walk in the snow, and enjoy dinner with friends. Change involves work, but I don’t have to work at it constantly. The work of moving is like preparing for a long trail hike. There are problems to solve, papers to sign, things to pack and get rid of, logistics to figure out. But just as I train my body while I prepare for the trail, I take walks, snowshoe and ski to keep myself in top shape for this transition. I know that as long as I move my body, I have a lifeline to the future. I’m ready for today in a winter wonderland.

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