I wanted to find a lighthearted title for this week’s Substack. For the last week, I worked eight, nine, ten hours a day unmaking a world that I had built up around myself in Oakland, California since the Oakland Firestorm of 1991. When my home burned down, I got the incredible opportunity (though I didn’t realise it at the time) to tell my architect exactly what I wanted in a house. I chose to simulate an adobe dwelling in Santa Fe. I was named after my great Aunt Sara who lived there most of her adult life and, romantic that I am, I thought this was a way of honouring her. I mixed the Adobe look with the Tuscan hills architecture around Florence where I spent one of the happiest times of my life. I chose doors from a company in Santa Fe, found mesquite wood at an antique store and asked the builders to plaster around it just as if it was adobe. I learned how to cut plastic garden pots in half, adhere them to the outside wall and stucco over them. Right side up, they became planters. Upside down they become covers for lights. The contractor let me design every nook and cranny (and there were many literal nooks and crannies where I could put all my treasures I’d collected in my travels) , and took my suggestions.
Lovely writing and selection! Time passes, things change, letting go takes strength.
But I am taking a moment to give your beautiful house its due. The photo of the garden brings back sunny memories. The stairs outside, the stairs to the bedroom, the kitchen, all the spaces and places. Art on the walls! I discovered Karen Slaughter, Harvey met a basketball guy across the street. We loved staying in your house (and came to know you). I am glad that your sister is taking the cats, who were discoverable all round. You built something wonderful.
[Moving on -- Ann Arbor is cool, your vote counts there, and Paris is Paris.]
Your reminiscences are much appreciated, Georgiana. I'm so grateful so many of my french friends, new and old, got to enjoy my wonderful home. I do hope to see you sometime in the near future. Bisous
As you know I moved to France as a young graduate for love. Even though I was young, full of hope with a good level of French, it took me ten years to feel that this country is my home. That ten year mark seems to be significant. 🥰
Wonderful post. I know exactly what you're going through. We sold our big Portland home where we raised our daughter in 2016 and arrived in the South of France in 2019 with 5 wheelie suitcases and that's about it. I'm still rattled by the thought of dismantling that house. But I love living in France, and have no regrets. Just a lot of FEELS. Courage, Sara!
Wow -- what a post -- and what a brave, extraordinary decision. I continue to be stunned at the fact that you did this in a week. YOU DID IT.
We will all need to let go of everything at some point... and you went through some of that fire but emerged clarified, and now are fully ready, free, and better resourced to dive into the next phase of life.
Congratulations!! I look forward to hearing much more about it.
Oh Sara, was hoping you'd have time to see me and am sad that that house is no longer part of you. But I am proud of you that you could make this decision and change your life. Don't know when I'll see you next but glad you're not here to see the end of the As. I can't say goodbye. A bientôt to you also ma chere.
Maybe you'll make it to Paris one of these days!!! Somehow, I think another trip will be necessary before this whole adventure reaches a conclusion. Closing bank accounts, will they let me do that from afar?
"Letting go also means that I get to move on." Yes, this is really the crux of it. For many years, I told myself to "let go" of my former life, the one I'd left behind but still missed. Oh, the grief! Let go, i'd tell myself. Then, one day, I realized I'd missed the second part of the message: "move on." I'd been floating in a middle space, having let go but without finding new earth to stand upon. "Move on" is the real key, simple as it sounds. Also, time does its work, always. After many years, you sometimes find you've moved on without realizing it. Anyway, I'm happy for you. I hope you find a wonderful new apartment in Paris. I still miss my former life, but I'm so glad I've moved on.
Lovely writing and selection! Time passes, things change, letting go takes strength.
But I am taking a moment to give your beautiful house its due. The photo of the garden brings back sunny memories. The stairs outside, the stairs to the bedroom, the kitchen, all the spaces and places. Art on the walls! I discovered Karen Slaughter, Harvey met a basketball guy across the street. We loved staying in your house (and came to know you). I am glad that your sister is taking the cats, who were discoverable all round. You built something wonderful.
[Moving on -- Ann Arbor is cool, your vote counts there, and Paris is Paris.]
Your reminiscences are much appreciated, Georgiana. I'm so grateful so many of my french friends, new and old, got to enjoy my wonderful home. I do hope to see you sometime in the near future. Bisous
As you know I moved to France as a young graduate for love. Even though I was young, full of hope with a good level of French, it took me ten years to feel that this country is my home. That ten year mark seems to be significant. 🥰
That's so interesting, Henrie. I wonder if others say the same thing. Bisous
Wonderful post. I know exactly what you're going through. We sold our big Portland home where we raised our daughter in 2016 and arrived in the South of France in 2019 with 5 wheelie suitcases and that's about it. I'm still rattled by the thought of dismantling that house. But I love living in France, and have no regrets. Just a lot of FEELS. Courage, Sara!
Faster is better! No time to dwell. No time to procrastinate
Félicitations
Judy
Ha! Judy. You are the only one who supports faster. Everyone else thought I was crazy. :-)
Slow = harder decisions. Keeping more. And more pain.
Wow -- what a post -- and what a brave, extraordinary decision. I continue to be stunned at the fact that you did this in a week. YOU DID IT.
We will all need to let go of everything at some point... and you went through some of that fire but emerged clarified, and now are fully ready, free, and better resourced to dive into the next phase of life.
Congratulations!! I look forward to hearing much more about it.
xxoo
Wonderful, Sara! Best wishes to you as you move on. Onward ever, backward never.
Oh Sara, was hoping you'd have time to see me and am sad that that house is no longer part of you. But I am proud of you that you could make this decision and change your life. Don't know when I'll see you next but glad you're not here to see the end of the As. I can't say goodbye. A bientôt to you also ma chere.
Maybe you'll make it to Paris one of these days!!! Somehow, I think another trip will be necessary before this whole adventure reaches a conclusion. Closing bank accounts, will they let me do that from afar?
"Letting go also means that I get to move on." Yes, this is really the crux of it. For many years, I told myself to "let go" of my former life, the one I'd left behind but still missed. Oh, the grief! Let go, i'd tell myself. Then, one day, I realized I'd missed the second part of the message: "move on." I'd been floating in a middle space, having let go but without finding new earth to stand upon. "Move on" is the real key, simple as it sounds. Also, time does its work, always. After many years, you sometimes find you've moved on without realizing it. Anyway, I'm happy for you. I hope you find a wonderful new apartment in Paris. I still miss my former life, but I'm so glad I've moved on.
Thanks Mary. Writing really helps get to the core of why I do what I do! I love your Substack. I have a question for you but will write you privately.