Monday, September 29, 2014

The Perils of Tugging on Superman's Cape

I know better.  First of all, I am Irish.  The Irish are a people so steeped in - and occasionally paralyzed by - our belief in superstition, luck and fate that we keep an eye out for leprechauns, pots of gold and shamrocks while contorting ourselves like pretzels in order to kiss an effing rock.  These actions are wedded not in logic.  

Second of all, I am my mother's son.  Joanie K. is an ardent believer in not poking Fate in the face.  By way of example, Mom has never embraced the notion of the "pre-arrival of the baby" baby shower.  To Mom's way of thinking, the shower should await the birth of the baby and the declaration that mother and child are both healthy and happy.   

I know better.  Yet, I put the metaphorical cart before the horse anyway.  Margaret and I have spent the past several months looking for a home down the Shore.  The short-term plan is that it shall be a nice play to spend summer weekends.  The long-term plan is that it shall be where we spend every well as the weekdays in between.  I will be forty-eight in February.  My plan is to be living at the beach full-time by the time I turn fifty.  There is a peace inherent in the ocean that I have yet to find anywhere else.  

We reasonably believed that we had found our little piece of seashore paradise.  Both of us were very, very excited about it and allowed our excitement to color how we viewed the process, which was as if was complete when it fact it was not.  For reasons far too aggravating to discuss in detail here, the deal fell apart several days ago.  

To borrow a phrase from the Moody Blues, "we all begin anew once more, we all begin anew".  Lesson learned.  There shall be no celebrating, no discussing, no posting of photographs and no mention of the process until a closing occurs and we take possession of whatever home we shall purchase.  

Being my mother's son has been helpful to my psyche these past several days.  I have said often to myself over and over the words that Mom has said - not only to me but to all of us - repeatedly throughout her life, "Everything happens for a reason."  Right now, what that reason is eludes me.  But it matters not.  The one door has closed.  Now, we must await the opening of another. 

And we shall do so in silence.  

Lesson learned.


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