“Sometimes the bravest thing we do is begin again…quietly”
– Unknown
It’s been a week and a day since we stepped through the door of our new townhome…a modest, light-filled place nestled in the rhythm of a different city. The kind of place where the mornings are quiet, the birds sound unfamiliar, and the light pours in from just the right angle to remind me we’re somewhere new.
In many ways, the goodbye we just lived through feels like it happened years ago. And in other ways, it’s still sitting with me…tucked inside half-sealed boxes, in the scent of our old coffee beans or in the way Anastasia hesitated before curling up in her new favorite window. Life feels both paused and in motion, like I’m mid-sentence in a story I haven’t quite learned how to tell yet.
I’ve discovered that transition doesn’t arrive with a big fanfare or a clear label. It doesn’t always look like a bold new beginning. Sometimes it looks like a return line at Marshall’s or a cup of coffee that doesn’t taste quite right yet because the cups are in the wrong cabinet. It’s the soft chaos of half-hung curtains, furniture in limbo, and meals that are more “assembled” than cooked.
There’s also a quiet loneliness in starting over. Not the heavy kind, but the kind that tiptoes in when you’re trying to remember which light switch works the porch or wondering who you’ll become in this unfamiliar place. I suppose I thought I’d feel more settled by now. But maybe settling isn’t about having everything in order…it’s about learning to be gentle with yourself while you figure it out.
In the quiet spaces between to-do lists, I’ve found myself returning to the desire that’s been tugging at me for a while now: to tell stories. Not just the ones about recipes or seasonal decor (though I do love those), but the ones that linger in the in-between…stories about change, uncertainty, and grace. Stories about the way life keeps unfolding, even when we feel like we’ve closed a chapter.
So here I am, still surrounded by a few unopened boxes, waiting on a sofa that won’t arrive until July, and slowly figuring out which corner of this home will become my new favorite writing spot. I’m learning, day by day, that beginnings don’t always announce themselves with clarity…but sometimes they show up quietly, in a new morning light or the whisper that says, “Start here.”
As I recently closed the final chapter of my little novella this past Monday, I find myself standing in a new kind of story…one that isn’t fully written yet, and maybe never will be. But I’m ready to let it unfold here, slowly and honestly.
Thank you for being part of my journey…through the goodbyes, the changes, the small delights, and the messy middles. Wherever you are in your own story, I hope you’ll keep turning the page with me.
There’s so much more to come.
If you’re going through a transition of your own… moving, shifting, letting go, or starting something new…I hope you find a bit of comfort in these words. I’d love to hear your thoughts, stories, or what “beginning again” has looked like in your life.
WELCOME HOME MARCIA AND JOE!!!!! Glad to see a glimpse into your new home!!!!! I LOVE the pond and deck!!!!! Congratulation!
Dear Donna,
Thank you so much for the warm welcome!!! Your message made me smile…I could feel the joy in every exclamation! It means so much to have friends like you cheering us on.
We’re really enjoying the little pond and deck…they’ve already become favorite spots for morning coffee and quiet moments. There’s still a lot of settling in to do, but we’re starting to feel the “home” part settle around us.
Sending a big hug and gratitude your way…thank you for sharing in this new chapter with us!
With love,
Marcia
I bet it was hard leaving where you lived. I have lived in the same home for 44 years and although it would be nice to live somewhere else I cannot imagine moving. Have to stay close to my family. I have enjoyed reading your chapters and wish you both Happy New Beginnings together I hope I get to see you Take care Marcia.
Dear Cindy,
Thank you so much for your kind words. Yes…it was hard leaving the place we lived. Even though Joe and I felt a sense of peace about our decision, there’s a quiet ache that comes with closing one chapter…even when you’re excited about the next.
I imagine living in the same home for 44 years holds a beautiful sense of familiarity and deep-rooted memories. There’s something truly meaningful about that kind of continuity. Your reflections touched me, especially as I think about how different each our journeys can be. Mine has taken a few unexpected turns…and many new beginnings…including marrying Joe later in life and sharing a spiritually rich and joy-filled path with him.
Even now, as we settle into our new place, I feel the layers of emotion that come with change…the joy, the uncertainty, the gratitude, and yes, a little bit of bittersweet longing. I think that’s just part of honoring where we’ve been, while also embracing where we’re going.
I hope we do get to see one another again. Your message meant a lot to me…thank you for reading along, and for walking a little of this journey with me.
Warmly,
Marcia
Marcia, I just wanted to say how much solace and inspiration I’ve found in your journaling. Reading about your physical and emotional journey resonates deeply with me, because I’m experiencing something very similar.
The difference is that, for the past year, I’ve been mentally preparing for this shift. I was working in a beautiful, progressive school in a bustling metro city in India, living the life of a creative, always-on-the-go teacher—checklists in hand and surviving on just 4.5 hours of sleep! But even in the middle of that vibrant life, a part of me was restless. My aging parents live in the mountains, and although I was always just a phone call away, I was also 12 hours away physically. That thought never let me be fully at peace.
I had built my dream cottage in their garden, and I have a wonderful husband—retired as a captain from the seas—who’s been supportive through this transition. I felt a deep need to slow down, to reconnect with nature and with myself. Like you, I began letting go. I gave up my metro apartment, keeping only the essentials that held meaning: ten boxes, my nurtured potted plants, travel albums, diaries, scrapbooks, cherished clothes, scarves and stoles. The rest I gave away. My African paintings have remained on the walls as I handover my metro apartment to my daughter, who is 25 and busy building her own life there!
Now, here I am in the foothills of the Dhauladhar, just 12 km away from the Dalai Lama’s monastery, feeling deeply aligned with your journey. Every morning after three hours of walking, yoga, and movement, I visit my parents as they wake up. They love seeing me at the door at 8 AM. I’ve just bought myself a cute little car and finally have the time and space to do all the things I’ve longed to do. Time has slowed, in the best way.
Your words have made me smile, and I’m grateful for the sense of companionship they bring. I look forward to your posts, to relating, identifying, and feeling happy and thankful for this beautiful life.
Dear Neeru,
Your message touched me so deeply…I’ve read it more than once, and each time, I felt a wave of recognition, comfort, and gratitude. What a beautiful, soul-stirring journey you’ve shared. The way you described your transition…from a fast-paced, vibrant life to a quieter, more intentional one…mirrors so much of what I’ve been moving through.
I could feel every moment… the packing of the essentials, the letting go, the softness of morning light in the mountains, the joy of being closer to your parents, and the beauty of slowing down. It takes courage and clarity to leave behind a version of life that once defined you, especially one that looks so full on the outside. And yet, the fullness of your new life… rooted in love, rhythm, and meaning… is so evident.
Isn’t it something, how two woman… you in the foothills of Dhauladhar, me on a quiet street with a pond and a deck… can be walking such parallel paths?
Thank you for sharing your heart with me. Your words are a reminder that across oceans and cultures, we’re all part of this beautifully unfolding human story. I’m honored to be connected with you through our journeys, and I look forward to hearing more from your side of the world as we both continue embracing life in it’s truest, slowest, most sacred peace.
With love and a deep sense of kinship,
Marcia
Thank you so much, Marcia. Yes, this truly is an incredible journey. I’m finding so much joy and fulfillment in simply being grateful for everyone who crosses my path. I hope I can carry this mindset forward as I hold my mom’s hand—may God bless her. I’m just praying for strength, and I’ll definitely continue to draw inspiration from your posts.
You have a wonderful way with words. I look forward everyday to read what you write.
Good luck on your new home and adventure.
Kathi
Dear Kathi,
Thank you so much for your lovely comment… it means more than I can say. Knowing that you look forward to reading what I write truly touches my heart. Writing has always helped me make sense of life, and to know it’s resonating with others… like you… makes it feel all the more meaningful.
Thank you for the good wishes! We’re slowly settling in, and each day brings a new little piece of the adventure. I’m so grateful to have you reading along.
With warmth and appreciation,
Marcia
Loved your title, saying good bye…it pulled me in to discover what you were saying goodbye to! Your story made me feel included in your world. I could also relate, because I’m contemplating a move myself. Weighing the pros and cons, mine will be a big move if I take the challenge. Your new home looks very comfortable, love how you can perch among the treetops on your deck as you take in the lovely surroundings. Your writing style is engaging, Wishing you much comfort and satisfaction in your new abode, as you pursue your dream of writing.
Dear Ruth,
Thank you so much for your kind words. I am so glad the title drew you in… It felt like the truth way to begin this new chapter… with a goodbye. Not a final one, the kind that honors what was, I’m making space for what’s next.
Your own contemplation of a big leap sounds both exciting and understandably, tender. It’s such a deeply personal process, isn’t it? There’s a certain weight to making a change that shifts your surroundings… but also your rhythm, your identity, even your sense of home. I admire that you’re taking the time to weigh the decision thoughtfully.
I hope that if and when the moment feels right, you’ll find the courage to take the leap. I can already tell that whatever you choose, you’ll do it with heart.
Thank you, too, for your lovely compliment about my writing… I’m deeply touched. It means the world to me to know that in sharing this unfolding story, I’m not only finding my voice… but also connecting with others who are navigating their own.
Wishing you clarity, peace, and maybe even a little adventure and whatever comes next.
With warmth,
Marcia
Hi, Marcia,
I’ve missed some (quite a few actually) of your stories so I’m not up on why you and your husband have moved. Where have you gone?
Dear Marge,
It’s such a joy to hear from you…I’m so glad you popped back in! And no worries at all about missing a few posts…life moves quickly, and we all catch up when we can.
Joe and I recently moved to a larger city here in the Pacific Northwest… One with more amenities and a lot of natural beauty. We’re nestled in a quiet little corner of it, which is given us the best of both worlds: peaceful surroundings, and access to everything we need. It felt like the right time for a shift… both practically and spiritually… and we’ve been easing into this new chapter with hope and gratitude.
Sharing more glimpses along the way, but thank you for reaching out and for continuing to walk alongside me. It means more than you know.
Love,
Marcia