But life kept happening - most of it great, some not so much. Let's re-cap:
Since 2014, I'd been getting restless at my house in the city. I LOVED the house itself, with its original 1947 hardwood floors, charming details, huge yards, and wonderful neighbors. But I was in a very urban area, surrounded by gang violence, drug deals, and street racing. At the time I bought it, it was right for me. But as a few years passed, it became more clear that it wasn't where I was supposed to be.
And this cancer thing was a HUGE part of that.
I'm a Parkie, and have been since first volunteering for the National Park Service in high school, lo these nearly four decades ago. Couple that with a Stage IV cancer diagnosis and a mantra of "life is short" and you get a spirit that yearns for something better: for a small community, for wild spaces free of noise, crime, and congestion.
So I began looking at properties for sale a little further out, away from the city. My commute to work was already 45 minutes to an hour each way, so what was a few more minutes on the road? As fewer and fewer properties looked promising, I cast my net wider and began looking further away. My ever-patient realtors trudged all over hell and half of Georgia with me, up and down rutted roads, into sketchy backcountry areas, to and from canyons and hilltops, looking for the right property. With the types of properties I was looking at, my daughter and my bestie were concerned that I'd be too isolated and too far away from neighbors or help if something happened. In a rare moment of acquiescence, I had to agree: as much as I saw myself on a remote piece of property, the reality is that I have a disease that will require treatment at some point and may cause complications. I needed to be smart about this property search.
I began looking in our little mountain towns: there, I could be out of the city but still have the rural space and the small-town community that I craved. After seemingly endless months of searching, I found IT: my little cabin in the woods. I put my city house on the market, put an offer on The Treehouse, was fortunate to have both properties close escrow on the same day, and moved to the mountains in November 2015.
And it's been the best decision I've ever made. I make the 150-mile round-trip commute to work twice a week (and miss the traffic both ways since I leave early and come home late), and I telework from home the rest of the time. I have clear mountain air; glorious birdsong; brilliant star-filled night skies; a deck that overlooks my little third-acre oak-studded mountain paradise that I've christened Dragonfly Hill; amazing neighbors with horses and chickens and goats; and unlimited miles of hiking. My tiny house is just a little over 600 square feet, and it's perfect.
 |
| The Treehouse at Dragonfly Hill. |
For me, I'll always feel like my clock is ticking. And I'll always be cramming as much living into my days as I can. Life is too short. And it has a tendency to fast-forward WAY too fast.
What are you waiting for?
Do. It. Now.
