When I was thinking about moving here, almost two years ago, I called my cousin Elizabeth for advice. This house, the one I bought, was on the market and they’d dropped the price into the range I was looking for. Problem was, it was April, and I couldn’t afford to move until our lease was up in August. I couldn’t afford house payments and my half of the rent. Now, Elizabeth was a realtor for many years, which is one reason I called her, but she also practices Jin Shin Jyitsu, and has become, over the years, a pretty spiritually attuned person. When I told her I thought I was going to lose this house, she told me to make an offer contingent on closing in July.

“Really?” I said. “You can do that?”
“Sure,” she said. “Ask the universe for what you want. Just remember to be clear.”

Well, this weekend the universe, in the form of Bill, Maryanne, Scott, Jennifer, Geri, Shelly, Shelly’s roommate whose name I never did catch, Bob, Carol, Parks, Nina, Joan, Robin, JK and Linnea all showed up at Patrick’s apartment and in an hour and a half had the whole thing packed up, loaded in the horse trailer, moved across town and unpacked into his storage unit he’d rented a couple of weeks before the accident (for his new business. He was so excited about that storage unit.) It was amazing. What I needed, what I asked my friends for, was enough people that it could all get done quickly, and that’s exactly what happened. By the time people showed up, I was in something of a state, and so for the next hour or so, everyone asked only one or two questions, does this go to your house? does this go to storage? do you want to throw this out?

When I first saw this house I was really unsure. It needed a lot of work. I only knew my realtor, who is very cool and a wonderful person, but I didn’t actually know anyone else in town. But when things started to fall into place, when the sellers took the offer I thought was somewhat preposterous I thought it was a clear sign that the universe was opening a path in front of me, and I should just take it. Then, when I finally got here and found out that my next-door-neighbor Paula is a painter, and then Scott and Jen took me home and fed me dinner after that first Friday happy hour at the Bar and Grill, and then I met Bill and Maryanne at the dog park and we all became fast friends, and I thought that it was working. This move was working. Then Patrick wound up here after having quite painfully lost a very cool job, and he fit in so well, and made such fast friends, and started his business, and I thought wow, the universe is providing exactly what I had hoped it would provide when I moved to Livingston, I felt really lucky. But little did I know.

Losing Patrick has been a terrible blow. But all I can think is how much more terrible it would be if I was still living in that townhouse we shared in California, the townhouse I couldn’t afford by myself, in a town where I didn’t have close friends. I was really clear about what I wanted when I looked for a place to move, I wanted a house I could afford in a small town where I could be a part of a real community. Yesterday I saw just how enormously lucky I am, to have found myself in this small town, with such amazing people who all dropped their Saturday to come help me.

Today it’s sunny and warm, and I raked leaves, pulled up dead plants, and put in some bulbs. I am brokenhearted, getting sick again, not sleeping particularly well and I was very cross at the dog park this morning. Despite that, I do know that I am loved and I am home, and that is an enormous consolation for which my gratitude knows no bounds.