Get Lucky?

We've come too far
To give up who we are...

I spin a lot lately.  My mind. My body.  Just getting dressed for work is a challenge as I have yet to totally disgorge the boxes, totes, and Force-Flex trash bags that contain my things.  I feel a little like Dorothy landing in a low rent Oz.  If I spin enough I'll get used to it.

One day in September I am about as happy as I can be.  Life was good; driving around singing along to Daft Punk's "Get Lucky."  I was feeling lucky  The year so far had been up and down, but good overall.  Fran graduated from nursing school in May and was interviewing for jobs.  Martha had spent 4 days in the local hospital's ICU recovering from a bad asthma attack, but she was doing well and excited about starting a new job with her old employer.  (customer service in the corporate office of a purveyor of upscale children's furniture and accessories)  My father-in-law had spent about a week in the same ICU a few weeks before Martha was there.  His situation was a bit more precarious but he snapped back and was doing well despite the worsening of his Parkinson's disease.

Due to my father-in-law's health considerations they decided to move into an independent living retirement apartment complex that would relieve them of the burden's that come from maintaining a large suburban home and yard.  I was a bit excited to learn that their piano was going to go into storage to be save for Embot's kids - and I got up my nerve to say it might be better that we "store" the piano for them in the interim.  Eddie had shown impressive skill in teaching himself various instruments.  When he was bored with his electronic keyboard, he was happy to go with me on a trip to Half-Price Books, at which time he would go Guitar Center, loitering and trying out the various pianos.

Sometimes bad news get slipped into ordinary conversations, where it hits like an unexpected tornado.  I came home from work and told Rick how excited I was to get a real piano for Eddie.   So excited.  After so many years of parenthood, we finally were getting a piano.  For someone who could play more than "Chopsticks".  As I talked about how easy it would be to take the piano down the one step out of his parents' house and up just two steps into our house, Rick mentioned what a drag it would be to move out again.  And that is how I found out that the home we would be living in for fifteen years might be pulled right out from under us.  Subtle, huh? 

We got lucky.  We got the piano.  Eddie played.  Just moving forward not believing anyone else would want to buy our house when several much nicer places had been dwindling on the market for ages.