It's been a year since our former landlord—through his own incompetence—burned us out of the home we had lived in since returning from Denver in 2015.
And while today isn't the actual date of the fire, its anniversary will forever be tied to the Sunday after Thanksgiving, regardless of the number on the calendar.
A few weeks ago, acknowledging that the pall of that tragedy was still hanging over my head and robbing me of what little joy this year has afforded, I decided it was time to just let it go.
Let. It. Go. Move on. I was tired of allowing it such power over me.
"Fuck James," still rolls off my lips when confronted with a reminder of what happened (we're still discovering little things missing or that need to be replaced), but not nearly as frequently as it had been.
As I may have mentioned, Ben and I had been talking about moving prior to the fire. There were several things about the house that annoyed both both of us no end, but in the end it was home and perhaps even more than that, the one thing that kept us there was the very reasonable rent ($1300 for a three bedroom house), and the fact that neither one of us could stomach the thought of packing everything up and moving.
As is often the case, the Universe picked up on that and literally lit a fire under our asses.
Our new place has its share of annoyances, and our landlord is a far cry from our previous on the sociability index, but we've finally settled in and think of it as home.
I'd be lying if I said there weren't any scars remaining from a year ago. I still haven't put the aquarium back up, and frankly I may just write off that entire hobby at this point. Last night, thinking back over the number of fish that I—through my incompetence—sent to an early grave over the years still sickens me when I think about it. After 35 years of having an aquarium of one size or another in the bedroom, I miss the quiet gurgling of the air pump at night but I do not miss cleaning the damn things.
We will all most likely experience some event that will leave a scar on our psych, have some power over us and be difficult to get over. I know. Some days are easier than others. On the other hand, we can be grateful for what we have. Today, as hubs and I were off to Costco, I remembered how sweet it was that he gave me his old Casio when he bought an iWatch. Really. My watch had had bit the dust and I hate shopping for stuff like that AND I am a LOW TECH kind of guy. It was perfect.
I'm sorry for the cliche, but *not* having to clean an aquarium could be interpreted as a silver lining.