The medical appointments we had this morning and this afternoon were not what I’d call drudgery – one never likes to belittle even the most routine scientific enquiry – but I have to say it was all a bit of a grind! These consultations were by any estimate conventional (though critical) affairs, things we do every year. I was especially anxious to complete the agenda and put stuff behind. Since our return to Canada three weeks ago on April 27th we’ve been exponentially focussed and diligent. Happily we’ve wrestled the numerous complications to the ground. I am beginning to regard the universe with a more enlightened view.

Each day we’re adjusting to our new settings. At least the paramount change of address is only a jump across the river; some things are immutable. Yet while it is obvious that we still know the same number of people in town as we did a year ago, there’s an unmistakeable connection I have with people on this side of the river.  Many of them are those whom I met years ago when I first lived on this side of the river; they were residents of the immediate area; and they’ve frequently continued to be so. But unlike the demographic change, the architecture of the town remains predominantly familiar (that is, apart from the building in which we now reside). Naturally the encompassing geography (the Village of Appleton on one side; the Village of Pakenham on the other) remains unperturbed. So you would think the “adjustment” (if any) would be small.

I consider it fortunate to have lived in a number of communities where there is an association among the members. It is almost tribal, signified as much by what isn’t said as by what is. Having been instructed in that mixture, I have learned to enjoy making new acquaintances, perhaps developing an unimagined buoyancy. As for having to deal with the hardware of a new environment, I can only say we hit a home run! The approbation I have for our digs is practically inexhaustible. This clearly further elevates the award but I stand by it.

Not unlike most people I readily avow that having a cunning environment in which to live is both resourceful and settling. It is resourceful because it establishes the firmament beneath which is sheltered and manifest one’s personal expression; and, it is settling because it is a place to go, the last resort, home. Having moved as much as we have in the past 47 years, it seems almost artificial to equate domesticity with settlement. Yet the latter is a bargain, resolution and compromise; it is never a one-way street. The overall incongruity is the distinction between where one lives and where one vacations as we have learned from the instruction given by an American border guard.

Until mere days ago we haven’t had that vigour and resolve about which we are now so eagerly enthralled. Over the last winter we clung to the image of an empty, cluttered apartment with which we had but minimal knowledge. With unfettered sedulousness we have triumphed over the incomparable variations of moving. As we remarked only yesterday afternoon to another resident, “We got rid of a lot of stuff!”

Cleanliness of almost any illustration is cathartic. It certainly expedites the process to diminish the space within which one maintains the result. Part of the cleansing is frequently removal of unused material, everything from hardware to underwear. It is a helpful imperative to abandon what simply doesn’t fit, whether furniture or trousers. Significantly – and uniquely to this particular move – we ended buying several new pieces of furniture.  My favourites are the table and chairs we purchased at the local hardware store for the balcony. While crunching my apple slices this morning I caught myself yearning to sit upon the deck and take in the rays. Which I did in fulfilment of that unburnished desire!