I could say that I haven’t been writing because I’ve been busy unpacking and settling in, but it wouldn’t be the truth. Or it would be, at best, a half-truth.

The unpacking part is certainly true. As of yesterday, all the books are out of their boxes. The clothes are hanging in closets or folded onto shelves. The living room is no longer awash in packing paper and bubble wrap. Two boxes of clothes and bedding and towels are waiting in the entry for me to find the appropriate charity to donate them to. The dining table is completely filled with artifacts, small things of varying vintages that are—or were—precious to me and are waiting to have their fates decided. All that is true, yes, and all that has taken a lot of time and energy. But not so much that I couldn’t have written had not something been standing in the way.

I’m not even sure I can articulate what that something is. I guess if I could I’d be writing about it. It has something to do with displacement and untangling history so I can fully find myself in the present. It has to do with starting a new life in a new city and wondering how on earth I got here. Not the driving part. I cherish those five days. I felt freer, alone in my car with my Christmas cactuses and my computer and little else, than before or since. Sometimes I just want to load up again and head out to nowhere in particular.

There is nothing dramatic or exciting about the slow slog of putting together a new life. Friends take time to make, and first you have to find them, you have to figure out places where they might be hiding. A gym. Volunteering. Cold-calling friends of friends, something that is as daunting as cold-calling in any other context.

I spoke with a friend in the Northwest the other day, someone with whom I can open my heart. At the end of the call, she said:

Accept what is.
Let go of what was.
And have faith in what will be.

I’m working on it.


  1. Dear Ruth, Just read your latest blog. Your vulnerable and honest words strike right at the core of this human condition we all must somehow navigate. It is not hard to empathize. Moving across the country to create a new home and life is incredibly courageous. I admire your courage, as I’m sure others do. In the beginning, I can imagine there are plenty of adjustments, as well as some losses. However, I feel sure you will find your karass. Kurt Vonnegut used this term for one’s “tribe” or circle of like-minded souls. One by one, you will find them and/or they will find you. I will keep you in my warmest thoughts in the coming days. Take good care, Becky

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Ruth Ann, Your vulnerable sharing continues to inspire me. Authentic. Not pretty, but beautifully exquisite in your experience. When I look at the picture of your apartment, I recognize your artifacts… Those things…. They remind me of you even though I know they aren’t you. But it warms my heart to see them. Just as it warms my heart to hear you in your writing. I love you and I’m grateful for our friendship.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You are in the midst of a gigantic life adjustment, dear Ruth, and it will take time and patience for it to all come together. I am here and always interested in knowing how it is going for you! Have a happy Thanksgiving, dear friend. Ellin

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I am keeping up with you Ruth. Having kept my eye and ear on you for some years as I followed Ted, & I read your travel blogs as you got further away from Seattle and Roberta and I speculated,…so now you have filled in a few more blanks. Sounds interesting, your new life. Hope it goes well. Keep in touch if you like. Carol Robins. Bob says hi.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I love hearing from you and I wondered how things are going. What a great opportunity to create something new – something that is you in your new life. Admittedly, it is not always easy and can be daunting. As I look at some of the comments, I can see how dearly you are loved. In time, someone in the Minneapolis area is going to be so grateful for you as a friend.


    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s