Loss. Love. Beginnings. Daring. Living. It has been a wonderful year of growth for the Gutgold family! It was hard to just pick up and leave what we had in the Lehigh Valley; wonderful neighbors, family and good friends, work I loved (never did call it work), a volunteer community we enjoyed and a church where our children received their sacraments. (It took a whole year to make the move to this house and technically we still own some houses there — but probably not for long). Our son Ian is off in another state beginning his career, and we are so proud of him, though we miss him. And, lucky (at least for us) Emily is right here in State College, a sophomore at dear old State. But it won’t be long before she sets off for her own life. The way it should be.
Recently I fell down steps and got Lyme disease, but I’m fine! I’m almost 100% back to putting weight on my right foot and I am on an antibiotic for the Lyme. I think falling down the steps was a blessing because it made me look at the black and blue mark on my hip, which made me realize it was more of a tick bite than a black and blue mark. The 103.4 fever clued me in, too. After I started to heal, my good friend and fabulous yogi Lisa Hogan introduced me to yoga and though I’m definitely in the VERY beginner stage (I’m not that flexible), I am learning to breathe, relax and enjoy and respect that my body needs a rest sometimes. That was an awesome lesson! Thanks falling down the steps!
Over the past four months Geoff and I have settled into our cozy and comfortable new home in State College and as anyone who has ever moved knows: it is not nothing (pardon my grammar).
There was the searching for a new home (they sell fast here), the packing (dread), the moving, the losing,
(I still don’t know where my winter boots are and Emily keeps asking about her treasured copy of the third Harry Potter book in her collection–we will find it, Em) and the unpacking. There are still six very large boxes that are unopened in the garage. Funny what you can live without.
But this morning, as I chopped the broccoli in anticipation of dinner guests (I love to entertain and we’ve made wonderful friends here already), I could sense my mom in the air. (She’s been deceased since 1993, and did not see the last three of the homes we’ve lived in). I never sensed her in our house in Fogelsville, but I often felt her spirit in the large kitchen in the house where we mostly raised our kids in New Tripoli. She would love that house, and the property, where sunflowers grow very large.
The sense of her presence instantly made this house a home. Maybe we should play a little Joni Mitchell tonight? Something’s lost and something’s gained, from living every day.
Life is a miracle. I’m so grateful to be here. I’m grateful to everyone in my life and even to those darn steps that I tumbled down. Namaste.