Letting go, moving on

I have a rocking chair in the back of my car.

It’s been there for nearly a month. I don’t know why this last part of the transition out of my old job has been so hard. Partly, because I don’t have a good place in my house for it (I also have artwork stacked on the floor). Partly because it’s a little unwieldy to lug up and down stairs, through doorways.

Partly I think it’s a symbol of my old life, and the life before that–my previous house, my first husband. When we bought it together, the man at the store asked us something about expecting. I guess you buy rockers when you’re having a baby. At the time, we weren’t. I’d just always wanted a rocking chair.

At some point, I took the chair into my office. I rarely sat in it, but I invited other people to–relax for a minute… rock.

Now it has become a symbol of an ending. The other day, I looked back on my job experiences and realized that it’s been about 25 years since I had to look for a job–since I didn’t have a job, or a job in the works, and didn’t know what the next job would be. A long time–about as long as I’ve had the chair. Taking the chair out of my car means that run is truly over.

As one era ends, another begins. I believe in making room for things to happen, so I need to let go, get that chair out of my car, and make a space for my next work. But if you want it and you’re in the Seattle area, let me know.