I have lived in my neighborhood for 32+years. It's a very typical 70s "Brady Bunch" subdivision. My property abuts the school and the common park. My first friends here were women who enticed me to join them in the public sandbox not 50 yards from my yard.
Today on my closed FB group, one of my neighborhood acquaintances posted her dining room set for sale. I've known her for decades. Her son is music virtuoso. I'd watch her walk past my house on her daily exercise jaunt with another neighbor. Her husband was our part-time mailman.
Seeing her post her dining room set was a signal of the circle of life--I wondered, where is she going? Will she no longer need a table that seats 8 or 10? Where are her kids? Will she be going to THEIR house for Christmas now?
These random things jog my awareness that life is on the downswing for me, too. That's not a bad thing... it just is. When I was up in VT last weekend, I was well aware of the fact that once we move up there, our kids may not be ever-present to entertain us. They have their own lives. We need to continue our lives, whatever that may look like. I'm hoping that we find a community we can belong to, and now I'm starting to realize why the "55+ community" lifestyle appeals to people.
I look at my stuff. I don't have a lot. We have one of the smaller models that were constructed in the 70s. But I know that the day will come when I have to decide whether I should keep my farmhouse table, or whether it is too big for the place we wind up in. What do I do with my garden Zen deer-chaser? What do I do with my MIL's mahogany table or my mother's deacon's bench? I used to think my MIL was silly for thinking such things.
But here I am. Thinking such things.