My daughter asked what I needed for my new house. I knew she’d want to do something, so I decided not to avoid the request. I like to help, and others like to help, too. I told her a Swiffer Wet Jet. She already had it in her shopping cart, because I had mentioned it before.
I joked with her, pointing out it might be a weird gift for her to give me, since she had given me one before. Well, she had given “us” one before, when my ex and I moved into a new large house with lots of wood floors. When I moved out a little more than a half year later when my ex decided he’d prefer to do life without me, I left the Swiffer. After all, he was the one with the big house and lots of floors to clean. I knew he could buy another one, but I did what I could to keep the transition as simple as possible for him.
Some of the decisions I made back then seemed like no-brainers. I didn’t have enough brain power to process much of the time. Some of what I did was habit, and I was thankful for the good habits I had. Otherwise, I might have easily derailed. At times, I felt like I was off the rails anyway.
But I have moved forward. And I will soon be in a new home. My home. And I need a Swiffer Wet Jet, because (1) I like clean, and (2) Swiffer makes cleaning easier.
I’ve moved forward fairly well, I think. I am in a healthy place or, at least, in a healthy process, I think.
But thinking back to moving into the new house with my ex a few years ago and the small touches like getting a Swiffer Wet Jet as a housewarming gift and taking care of the floors without knowing what was happening around me until it imploded, thinking back to when I cleaned the floors for the last time before I moved out, something squeezed my heart just enough that tears fell.
How many people cry at the mention of a Swiffer?
Of course, it’s not about a Swiffer. And it’s not even about the past. It is simply part of the healing process.
Am I ready to move on? Yes.
Am I content to move on without my ex? Yes.
Am I thankful for the life I have? Absolutely, without a doubt.
Sometimes the healing process surprises me.
Sadness used to be oppressive. It clung to me like pesky plastic wrap. But sadness is different now. It surprises me from time to time, because it’s not the norm.
I am excited to use my new Swiffer. I’m excited for the strands of continuity with friends and family who remain. I welcome new adventures. And I’m ready to make a new home and savor the new memories of moving forward in faith and hope.
God is good indeed.