Embark

I can still feel a little of the back and forth energy sloshing around in my head (“You can change your might right up until closing day”), but I think this is indeed and actually underway. No more suicidal thoughts; I think I had just worked myself, through my own dedicated efforts, into a really horrible state.

I am getting nice “Welcome home” messages from my relatives in Michigan. I often thought about moving back—I came to San Francisco in 1982 and began to think about moving back to the Midwest in 1989, probably not unrelated to the Loma Prieta earthquake—but always concluded that I did not have a second giant move in me. Pretty much the entire reason I wanted to move back was to see more of my parents, so it is bittersweet to finally be doing it after they have gone. Odd that they will never know.

As closing day, I chose the birthday in August of my late aunt, which I think her daughter and husband (my only remaining uncle) appreciated. Also, my realtor had said that you can put a house on the market in that area in any month other than August, so now she can claim to have brisk sales even in August. She emailed today that the title company has agreed to accept me as both the seller and the buyer of the house.

I met today with the cat transport people. They are a husband and wife plus a third person who is a vet tech in a feline-only clinic. The wife is a “nationally recognized leader in animal welfare” who has been doing this work for more than thirty years. I spoke with the husband and he explained that they had long helped friends with pet transport as a favor and then realized a couple of years ago that there was a need for this kind of service. They fly all over the world with people’s pets; they specialize in cats but transport dogs, as well.

Gabe said he has spoken with people who are moving to a completely different country, a huge logistical undertaking, who say their very biggest fear pertains to moving their pets. I can easily believe that.

I explained a little bit about Marvin, including his proven ability to liberate himself in seconds from a soft-sided carrier (“I’m not in here”), and Gabe said he is not worried and that he is sure he and Marvin will get along great. Marvin is not mean. He’s lovely, just implacably determined for things to go his way. I am not going to interview any other cat transport people. These are my folks. The idea is that two of their team and I will fly together, seated next to each other, the other two each with a cat in a carrier and me quietly minding my own business in the third seat. After our meeting, Gabe sent a link to a list of their recommended carriers. He wrote, “I look so forward to helping you return home to our beautiful state!” They themselves are based in Detroit. 

I asked what he thought about my bringing along enough aluminum screen and cable ties to wrap Marvin’s entire carrier in, just in case—would that cause problems at security? Gabe told an anecdote about someone who was prevented from boarding a flight because they had cat litter with them. This triggered a full-on uniformed-officer response and investigation, which eventually determined that the suspicious substance was cat litter. So maybe I won’t fly with aluminum screen and cable ties, but we agreed that a roll of duct tape is never a bad thing to have on hand.

I’m continuing to feel a little mournful about the beautiful weather—leaving it—but in an odd way, the weather can actually be superior in Michigan because the air conditioning makes the inside of the house comfortable, including not too humid, whereas my apartment in San Francisco is so porous that the weather outside and the weather inside are pretty much identical. It is in fact a bit muggy today in San Francisco, with gorgeous sunshine. (In Ypsilanti, it’s 96 degrees and climbing, with a “real feel” of 112 degrees and the air obscured by wildfire smoke. Sounds nice!)

Another thing about the weather is that in Michigan, I can often eat outside. It was probably having breakfast on the deck and watching the leaves flutter in the caressing breeze and the chipmunks gamboling about that first made me think I might not be able to give up the house. I can eat outside in San Francisco, too: I could set up a folding chair next to the trash chute and look at the peeling paint and toilet plunger next door, while listening to the abusive father shriek threats at his children. (Yes, we have called the police and CPS many, many times at this point. Just hoping something really horrible doesn’t happen.)

I loved being a hospital chaplain. I had not meant to stop for another six years, but the universe seems to have sent me a house which will be a nice place to retire and do a little weeding. I am already thinking about volunteering at a hospital in Detroit. I was putting away the clothing delivered by the laundry service and it struck me that I had never felt entirely like myself in my work clothes. Looking forward to feeling exactly like myself all the time. Also looking forward to being with the cats all the time and flying only occasionally.

I am also thinking about being a hospice volunteer again. That was the first step toward being a hospital chaplain and it was tremendously rewarding.

Also thinking about getting a bike rack for the car so I can go take bike rides near where my friend lives west of Ann Arbor.  I’m thinking about going to Cabela’s and getting some work boots to prevent my feet from being crushed in case I drop a weed on them. I’m even thinking about seeing if it’s possible to put the car inside the garage—nah, never mind that one. I don’t want to (again) demonstrate a loss of touch with reality.