Change. The eternal constant. I was
thinking about this recently when two of my offspring were
contemplating relocation. My Boston-area son is buying a new house and my
daughter's husband is getting transferred to Burlington, VT, the US headquarters of his company. As their plans materialized, I realized it was time for a change in my life too. I love San Diego, but there are other places to go and good reasons to explore them. So, here's the plan . . .
I will sell my condo in the spring, buy a motor home, and drive across the country with my cats and a friend. I'll drop the friend off at his place in Baton Rouge, visit my Atlanta and Pennsylvania sisters along the way, and settle in beautiful Burlington on the shores of Lake Champlain.
Like most "correct" decisions, this
one practically made itself. I’ll be near two of my offspring and all three grandkids.
But it did cause me to reflect on other milestone moments in my life, all of which led
to the following thoughts.
Leaving one's home or job is like coming to the
end of a good book: you're glad to have been there and sorry it has to end.
Although you look forward to the next one, there's some anxiety because you're
not sure it will be as good as the last. The German word for this uneasiness
is Schwellenangst — the fear of crossing a threshold to embark
on something new. Considering the number of places I've lived (21 at last
count), I've crossed that threshold many times and there was some Schwellenangst at
each one.
The most severe symptoms came when I considered
leaving the Navy to seek civilian employment. I was quitting a tenured position
in the "regular Navy" (not USNR) that guaranteed me at least a
20-year career and a retirement package that would include a monthly paycheck
and healthcare coverage for me and my dependents. It was an anxiety-ridden
moment. But after exploring all the options, when the decision felt right, Sue
and I laid the uneasiness aside and treated the move as an adventure, an
occasion for optimism and hope.
I believe each of us is prepared to cross our
personal threshold to grasp the opportunities that lie beyond. As my wonderful
Uncle Fred says, "Ever onward!"
Love to you all, and I'll see you on the other
side of the threshold, Schwellenangst be damned! ■
