2016 wasn’t an easy year to say, it was literally a Martian disaster.
It came with a price, a hefty price with no time to spare nor to think, it all went into “catch-22 mode,” at a moments notice as we walked out of the courtroom, stunned at the results and the quick bully type tactics of those who flip houses for a profit after buying one’s home from a monthly sheriff’s foreclosure auction.
It made me lose my faith in those who buy homes at foreclosure prices and flip them for hefty returns and marginal profits, regardless of how many years a family or one’s elderly parents have lived in for more generations than one can count. It mars the “sleepy hollow” effect of the witches knight riding down the hollowed forest where pitch blackness of the night is their friend and becomes the shadow of death.
It’s been a month since, I left Oregon for a change of lifestyle and pace. A choice that was difficult to make and hard to digest among family members, especially my Mother. As an only Son and best friend, who’d come to visit her everyday or help her with feeding the neighborhood squirrels and the everlasting visits of the neighborhood birds was always a daily ritual, when she called for me to jump into action and sprint around the neighborhood block to do just that all while getting spoiled by four barking mutt’s that made my visit to my parents house all worthwhile, while I heeded the daily call.
Since leaving Oregon – life here in the midwest has been interesting, much different from what I’ve experienced in my forty to fifty years of living in the Pacific Northwest.
So, far I’ve seen two small Snowstorms that have left a few inches of snow to nearly a half-foot of snow, so far. The cold Winters will start to come soon between now and the pending spring.
I’m often asked, “you think you made the right decision coming out here or do you feel like going back?” As my brother would ask me from time to time. I’m often reminded at how the opportunity became a reality check in life and that very same reality has probably become the most ingenious decision ever made in my fifty-plus years of life on this planet.
So, far that’s how it feels nor does it feel like some enormous hack gone wrong – it actually, feels the opposite. I’m perfectly sound as I adjust to the three-hour time zone difference between Eugene, the PNW and the Eastern time zone in the Midwest.
The three-hour time difference might be an adjustment in “the adjustment bureau,” but my good friend Rick Dancer, keeps me hopping on my toes, as I tap dance through the snow nor the wicked rains of the midwest, has he Facebook Live’s each day from various locations around the Eugene & Springfield area. It gives me the sense of home and braces me for the sense of security, that I’m never far from home as Rick brings his daily rituals to life to his followers and friends via Facebook.
It’s been the timing as gears shifted the calls of life into new perspectives, rather I write as a writer, blog as a blogger or write copy for my brother’s agency or chase the bad guys who never show up for court, the grass in the midwest is always greener than those that live in the Pacific Northwest. Only Toto would walk me back to Kansas, as Dorothy sets out to charm her way through the massive waves of corn fields for fresh bags of popcorn.
All I can say is – “I think I’m finally home?” As I snicker through my thoughts at 5:30 in the morning. At least, I can say, “Good night Gracie.”