MEANT-TO-BE
One of our favorite neighbors, Natalie, is moving to Southern California. We met for coffee this morning before I left Boise for St. Gertrude’s. Her husband has been commuting to the greater LA area from Boise for quite a while and they finally decided to sell their house and move. I wish they wouldn’t though I understand. They resisted moving for a long time but then everything just came together. Their moving is meant-to-be.
As we talked for what may be the last time in person, Natalie asked, “You know those red leather chairs you liked on Facebook? They’re selling them at the community yard sale this weekend.”
“They are?” I liked them but had passed on them the week before. “Have you seen them, Natalie? Are they nice?”
“They are,” she said, egging me on. “And comfortable. You should go see them. Do you want me to text my friend and tell her you want to look at them?”
I did, she did, and within the hour both chairs were in our living room. It happened so fast it seemed meant-to-be. Had she not mentioned them in the middle of our goodbyes, they wouldn’t be in our living room now.
As I drove north today, I thought about those chairs and about how things come together sometimes even when we aren’t trying to make them happen. How things are out there for us to stumble over, how we get to choose to reject or embrace them. Like Natalie and her husband did. Like I did with the red chairs. And like I did with St. Gertrude’s.
Had I not followed up on a feeling and applied for the Artists in Residence Program here, I wouldn’t be looking out my fifth story window at the Camas Prairie right now. I wouldn’t have heard the cow bellowing nearby, I wouldn’t have seen the bright yellow canola fields today or heard the wind rustling through the pines, the birds singing for the sheer joy of being here.
I feel joy in being here too. There’s a small living room where I’ve set up my computer, a bedroom with a single bed, and a big bathroom. There’s a kitchen just down the hall and the common dining room is downstairs. There’s a large library and several TV rooms. It’s simple – it’s comfortable.
Tonight, my windows are open and I’m watching the great valley below fade to black. Tomorrow I’ll watch the sun come up and I’ll begin writing. It’s meant to be.