We haven’t been in our new home even three weeks yet.

Sometimes when people ask Ken how long we’ve been married, he says, “Seems like yesterday” or he says, “Seems like forever.”

So, “How long have you been on the coast?” Gets answered pretty well the same way. It seems like forever and it seems like yesterday.

All the boxes have been opened, but some art work is still leaning against walls as we wonder where to hang them.

Our offices are claimed and almost set up, but paperwork and books are all over the floors of both. In my office there are piles of photos spread out. I search for pictures of Bill and Kim, only to find ones of Linda Brackett, mom or Janice Wood.

The guest room WAS ready for company, but it also serves as a sewing room, and there is a quilt in the making right now. Fabric is flung!

The hot tub is up and running — this is the best news to report.

My walking poles found a home near the front door, their presence, or lack there of, provide a clue to Ken as to my where a bouts. I take a different direction on every walk, still learning where we live. I cruise the neighbourhood on sidewalks, passing dogs in yards and I see people in their kitchens as I pass.

Walking east in the morning I see the beauty of the day beginning. But, I turn my back on it to get back home. I’m not taking afternoon walks yet. I haven’t found the mental place for tai chi or qigong yet. I have a hard time with the stillness right now.

We’ve eaten Chinese food twice, and each week on Tuesdays a local cook named Martin Ca, makes tasty “to go” dinners for just $10. Being in a small town with stuff at our finger tips is nice. We jump in the car for drives to explore or run to the building centre for this or that. I went to a quilt shop yesterday in search of a particular colour fabric and found it.

I’ve been to a few AA meetings, I’ll probably go again.

Seriously, with all this, it is hard to believe we’ve been here less than three weeks.

I am so happy and yet, I find holding the grief of Kim and my brother Bill really challenges my balance. I’m on my toes and then my heels – no centre.

And while I haven’t found really my practice yet, I have found home. The years of hard training are holding me for now. I have a strong awareness of life. I feel that I am doing the next right thing. I am in my skin dealing with the trauma, drama, joys and celebrations of this world, even when it seems like all I do is cry.

Seriously, did we just get here yesterday or have we always been here?