March 25 - Time to Move On...

I'm still in Minnesota, but I'm getting a little antsy for the next step in the process of Marco and I moving. We still can't quite say what the next step is, but the planning is in the works. News will come soon. Mom got back from Florida on wednesday, and it is nice to see her, but now I must relinquish the house to her again and I feel like I'm ready for my own space.

All that said, it's been a good few months however. Very good. Much needed.

Emily taught me how to knit with circular needles, so now I'm knitting Marco a hat. I did that this morning while watching woodworking shows on PBS! I love woodworking shows. Someday I will get tools and work some wood.

I was just reading the title of this post, and a memory crossed my mind. It's about a song.... "It's Time to Get Going" by Tom Petty....

When I was in high school I had a wild, WILD urge to go to Australia. That was all I wanted. I had been there once at age 16 and had fallen deeply and madly in love with the country. I saved up my money for about two years and left for Australia at age 18, just me, big dreams and a backpack.

I remember the day I arrived. There was the airplane, then finding the youth hostel, busses, checking in, finding my bed, putting on sheets. Lots of action and also jetlag. Not a lot of time to reflect. I just fell asleep. I awoke later in the summer evening sun.

I went into the living room of the hostel and put on my headphones. I had a discman and a Tom Petty cd. In a totally unplanned fashion, the words of the first song went like this:

It's time to move on.
It's time to get going.
What lies ahead I have no way of knowing.....
but under my feet, baby,
grass is growing.
It's time to move on. It's time to get going.....

It may have been a melancholic song for Tom Petty, but at that moment it shimmered with optimism for me. I looked around, and had the realization WAS in Australia. I WAS moving on. I had no idea what the future would bring, and that was pure, exhilarating bliss.

There was a soft warm summer breeze in November, the murmer of lilting accented voices in the hallways, tanned people who looked like surfers, exotic cockatoos making loud caws outside the window. It was a rare, perfect moment.