Unlike that childhood story about the bears and the beds, my story has been about addresses, not three but four.
When I moved back to Indiana I desperately wanted a place that I could love at least a little bit as much as I loved that little beach cottage.
The first place I lived had lots of natural light and spacious rooms. But the washer and dryer were in the basement. Climbing the stairs was too hard on my arthritic body.
The second place was quiet, and I enjoyed the privacy fence around the backyard. But I was dealing with financial instability. My blood pressure was sky-high. My doctor was constantly scolding me about stress. I had to make a drastic move so I could regroup and get back on my feet.
To do this, I gave up the cute little house on the quiet street.
An apartment became by third address. I tried to adjust but I absolutely hated that place. I didn’t like smelling what the neighbors cooked for supper. And the people upstairs sounded like they were participating in some kind of tap dancing or clogging routines ... right on top of my head.
When it stormed a bad mood came over me. And that’s unusual since I am in love with thunder and wind and even lightning. But I felt like I lived in a tube sock. I couldn’t smell the rain. I couldn’t see much of the sky from my apartment windows, either.
The other big reason for my address mess is that ever since my bout with breast cancer, I feel differently about how I spend my time. I am fairly obsessed with trying to be in love with all the minutes I am given in a day.
And so, because the apartment made me so unhappy – which meant that my minutes were not being used for something joyful – I decided to try another address.
I have now rented another little house.
In 18 months, this is my fourth address.
The covered back porch was the reason why I needed this place. And I truly mean that I need it.
I am all about simple, happy stuff.
Several times daily I want to fall in love with beautiful moments.
Now that I have a house again I am free to blast my music and dance. I have a porch to sweep. I see trees and grass instead of concrete. And my mailbox is outside again which, for some reason, also makes me insanely happy.
We can’t begin a day with a promise that we will have another day after this one. Because that fact is etched so deeply on my heart, that’s why I have driven my dear friends insane with my address mess.
I have been pursuing peace on my heart. And God love them, they have helped me pack and move again and again.
My experience on the beach cannot be recreated here or anywhere else, for that matter. But that doesn’t mean that minutes should waste.
If I don’t like a song on the radio, I now switch it instead of absentmindedly allowing it to play while I try to ignore it until it ends.
I don’t have time anymore for a bad song, just like I don’t have time for mean people or hurtful situations.
I only make time to laugh and listen and fall in love with experiences.
My address mess has officially ended.
Now I can see the moon again. I can grab a blanket, go out to that covered porch and fall in love with the rain again.
Like the bear’s third bed, this fourth address is just right.
Sherri Coner is an award-winning journalist and humor writer who speaks to women’s groups. To learn about her books for women and to join her on Facebook, visit www.sherriconer.com.