Part Four: The Quiet Before the Bridge

Time to Reflect

Last week’s lesson was “Do Not Tarry.”

Even though I wasn’t certain the closing would happen, I continued packing. I didn’t rush, but I didn’t stop. I kept taking the next appropriate step.

This past week felt different.

I was able to pack at my own pace—slowly and deliberately. I wrapped, taped and tucked things into boxes, finding little nooks and corners where everything could fit safely. And managed to watch tennis, college and NFL football.

My dear friend Dorothy left to go home on Wednesday. Once she was gone, everything became quiet — not that she’s loud.

In this quiet, I reflected on the day I moved into this condo and asked myself:

Why was I here? How did I get here? What did these seven years mean?

Wow. What a journey.

For seven years, this condo was mine. I sometimes walked through the front door singing Diana Ross’, “It’s my house, and I live here. It’s my house and I live here!
There’s a welcome mat at the door
And if you come on in
You’re gonna get much more..”

And it was—my own home, chosen by me, paid for and maintained by me. It represented independence, security and the accomplishment of building something of my own.

It held family, friends, laughter, celebrations and quiet moments through seven years of life, growth and change.

But every good thing eventually reaches its conclusion.

Now it is time to capitalize on this investment and move toward my forever home—closer to the people I love and who support me wholeheartedly. My heart gets bigger just thinking about it.

I have one week before the moving company.

They will arrive and take the heavy furniture to storage. Then I will walk out of this home and begin the next part of my journey. A brand new chapter, maybe even a new book.

I am not moving directly into my forever home yet. This next season is a bridge—a temporary space between the life I built here and the life I am preparing to create.

And that is okay.

A bridge is not the final destination, but it carries us from where we have been to where we are meant to go.

This week reminded me that moving forward is not always about packing faster. Sometimes it means becoming still enough to honor what a place has meant to you.

I am proud of the woman who walked into this condo seven years ago— and grateful for the life she created here.

I am excited about the woman who will soon walk out—wiser, stronger and ready for something new.

I don’t have the entire map.

I don’t know exactly where my forever home will be.

But I know the next move.

Pack. Reflect. Give thanks. Cross the bridge. Keep moving forward.

—Tena

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A Note About AI: This blog may have been created with the assistance of multiple AI platforms for historical research, fact-checking, writing support, and image generation. Every idea, perspective, and final edit reflects my voice and my commitment to sharing thoughtful, well-researched stories.

 – Tena