MOVING DAY: COLORADO BOUND…….
Aspen, Colorado
A friend once commented to me, during a discussion of homes, square footage and rising construction costs, “I just admire and respect what people do with small spaces.”
That friend is definitely going to ratchet up her respect and admiration for me. Last week I finally came to terms with 940 square feet.
The Gant, a condominium complex in Aspen, where I own a tiny condo. Summer. (photo: condorentals.com)
The Gant, a condominium complex in Aspen. where I own a tiny condo. Winter (photo: orbitz.com)
Here’s the back story. For the past twelve months I have had to face the reality of my future lifestyle. Moving from our Colorado home of 20 years to the Las Vegas area in 2004 was definitely a good idea. I intended to oversee the recovery of my husband, Michael, who had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. I needed and would have the support of my kids who lived nearby. Granted, at that time, reality was not yet my sidekick. Fast forward to 2012. While life in a warmer climate at a friendlier altitude has been kinder, it, of course, was not a cure-all for Michael. Yet the professional care he would eventually require and currently needs has been available and is excellent.
Anthem Country Club, Henderson, Nevada
Anthem Country Club, Henderson, Nevada
I have often written about the small gated-community where I live and the wonderful friends I have met. Anthem Country Club was a lucky discovery and I am grateful. For a woman who’s totally country, Las Vegas has been a hoot-and-holler love affair. Having never lived in a large city before, this has been one heck of an introduction to life-in-the-fast lane. There’s the rub. Living in Las Vegas is fast lane and I’m not. My life in Nevada has primarily revolved around an increasingly debilitating illness and one that now requires professional caregivers. This past year I’ve been forced by everyone to look forward. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have a plan. At my age, that’s scary.
A welcoming flower arrangement from The Gant Staff
According to Thomas Exter, writing in American Demographic, more and more, middle-aged adults are finding themselves living alone. The most dramatic growth in single-person households will occur among those aged 45 to 64. Boom! Boom! Single households are expected to increase by a whopping 42 percent, a number that is staggering and unprecedented.
Here’s what I began to realize. Baby Boomers, be damned. I am a single, sixties-something woman and, in a flash, will become a seventies-something woman. Las Vegas and I cannot live together forever. To navigate around this large, sprawling city of 3 million people, I average 2-3 hours every day in my car. Notorious for bad drivers, with insurance rates to take your breath away, getting behind the wheel in Vegas is a gamble. NIght driving? Forget it. I no longer want to be my car’s best friend and my unwillingness to drive in Vegas at night has always been lifestyle limiting.
My condo kitchen is small and compact – HELP!!!
There are more closets, but, not many. Probably need to cut the clothing budget.
In addition, may I remind you about Nevada summers? For the past seven years, I’ve tolerated summertime with good cheer and a “It’s not so bad”. I lie. One-hundred degrees and higher. For months and months. This is no lie: I have no more sweat to donate to the cause.
My Colorado Backyard
My Colorado Sideyard
Author J. Kerby Anderson, in his book “Signs of Warning, Signs of Hope, Seven Coming Crisis That Will Change Your Life,” discusses the baby boom generation’s crisis of loneliness. The reasons are simple, he says, demographics and social isolation.“In previous centuries where extended families dominated the social landscape” he writes, “a sizable proportion of adults living alone was unthinkable. And even in this century, adults living alone have usually been found near the beginning (singles) and end (widows) of adult life. But these periods of living alone are now longer due to lifestyle choices on the front end and advances in modern medicine on the back end.”
My first night in Colorado – dinner with good friends.
Hosts Donna and Bernie Grauer, welcoming me home
These facts have kept my mind preoccupied and whirling the past year as I’ve explored my options. Moving to the same California community as my daughter and her family? Although I’d be welcome, my son-in-law turns pale, paler and palest, at the thought. And I agree. Last December, I thought I had put together a blueprint for moving forward that would make me happy, secure, and content. Unfortunately, a few weeks ago, that plan fell apart and I found myself back at “Go.” Then, on April 22, the headlines:
“It reached 99 degrees Sunday in Las Vegas, a record high for April, according to the National Weather Service.”
I needed a plan. Fast. That’s when Serendipity called in the form of our long-time Colorado tax accountant, Mark Kavasch. Usually these calls cost me money. This, however, was merely a ‘check-in, taxes were filed, let’s talk about the upcoming year’ call. Mark, ever the professional, discussed the future and then, uncharacteristically, finished his call with these words, “You know, Mary, Michael wouldn’t like this. He wouldn’t like it at all. You need to get back here [Colorado] to your friends and the mountains. You really do.”
My Colorado home may be tiny but the dining room table has plenty of room for family, loved ones and good friends.
Mark’s advice became my permission and my plan. Last Wednesday I made the ten-hour drive to Colorado, returning to a community that has changed dramatically in the past eight years. But so have I. My condominium is tiny but that makes it manageable. I can walk or bike everywhere, safely. Although the mountains seem steeper and the bears are still lurking, the trails are nearby, at my back door. My friends of the past 25 years saved me a place at their tables. Of course there’s sadness and memories that bring some tears. That’s natural and healthy, I’m told. But, at long last, life seems good again.
With apologies for paraphrasing someone wiser than I,“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.”
