From a four bedroom ranch house to a two bedroom apartment. From countrified suburbia replete with deer, wild turkeys and the occasional bear, to a two bedroom rental apartment in a sleek four story structure across state lines.
Despite the joy of living now within walking distance of daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren, I thought I would be sad—to leave the screened-in porch and the woods within a stone’s throw. Maybe I will, come spring. But not at the moment. For now, I am surprisingly content. Although this building features a small gym on the ground floor, I’ve been walking outdoors instead. How odd that for all the years before retirement and even after, I used the treadmill in our basement. And now, suddenly, I want to walk outside along the relatively busy street lined by shops and restaurants, a gas station, two banks, the town hall, a football field. How strange that I am enjoying the activity—people waiting at the bus stop in the chill morning air, children on their way to school. Cars and trucks, a railroad crossing, a small bridge over a muddy stream.
It took no time to adjust. Thirty years in that house and I do not long for the space. So lovely to be a three minute drive from family. To serve as the regular grandparent Uber upon request. No shovelling snow, no raking leaves.
A smaller, easier, more manageable dwelling.
A new lifestyle.
A new outlook.
The upside of downsizing.