Recently, I’ve been working on a final edit before A Vision of Home, Book 3 in the Louisa’s Vineyard Series, heads to my formatter and, finally, publication. It’s ironic that the book title foretold what would happen in my life. I’ve been a homeowner before. This time, it seems like we’re working hard to earn the privilege.
We’re in Delaware now, getting ready to move to a temporary home until our house in the west sells and we can invest in a home that has everything we want in it, on a tight budget.
My characters Louisa and Will are preparing to find a home while she attends college. I won’t share spoilers, but Louisa and Will are deciding what is most important in a home for them. Louisa has complications that allow her to envision some potential things in their new home. She’s not sure quite how much the visions are sharing what is going to happen, but she’s willing to consider them.
As I work through the next few months, I realize decisions I made in packing a few weeks ago made a difference in my life now. I packed mostly summery clothes to bring with me. It’s not summery in Delaware now with temperatures in the sixties today.
The rest of my wardrobe is in storage, but to open the containers, it’d take a big fee. So, I’ll make do with a few clothes and wear them, wash them, repeat. When we’re finally ready for delivery of our stored items, it will be like a reunion! I’ll be excited to see what I would wear for this season. More choices, more space filled.
What do people want in a home? Realtors seems to imply certain common standards. How many bedrooms, bathrooms? What’s in the kitchen? Is there a basement? A garage? What kind of heating system?
During my weeding-out process, discarding, donating, and packing have been the norm. In Louisa’s life, since she lived in one place most of her life, she had to adjust to the idea of a dorm room (which changes: slight spoiler), with almost no room and barely any privacy.
After meeting the two gentlemen who call themselves “The Minimalists,” years ago, I realize that I’m closer to a maximalist. I save, cherish, and have become the repository for family heirlooms, and piles of photos. How does one change from that approach?
Both Louisa and Will and my husband and I are deciding what is really important in our lives. We’re all starting from scratch, almost as we do as babies.
After my friend talked about how she had thousands of photos that took up considerable time to catalog, she found her relatives weren’t interested in owning those mementos. Their reactions shook her.
I realized that I was in a similar situation. It all centers on what we value. My friends, fictional characters, and I have different values. From now on, I’ve promised myself to divest myself of things that I haven’t looked at in months, or perhaps years. When I make those decisions, I’ve promised myself that I won’t spend so much time in making those decisions. Why rob yourself of “now” when the past is over?
When my son was a child, he and I were getting ready to move. He had accumulated many toys, some of which he’d outgrown. With three bags, I had him identify which category each item was in. The real difficulty was I gave him ten seconds to decide as he chose which bag to add it to. Donate? Keep? Toss? Most decisions he abided by. A few, he snuck the item out of the toss or donate bags and added it to the “keep” bag.
Fictional characters that I’m writing about have their fates to be determined. (Although I’m the determiner.) Louisa and Will survive a potentially life-threatening experience. They cherish each other even more. They scrutinize things more carefully in the future.
As my husband and I decide what we keep, the material items become less important. Our health, safety, and relationship are the central part of our lives. And recycling! We want to help save the world, even in a small way.
As Louisa and her friends and family develop their lives in the books to come (and there are more coming), I hope they emerge as the characters that I hoped they’d be: human, quirky, complicated, caring, and sometimes, heroic.
I invite you to join me on these journeys.