Remember the movie "Sleepless in Seattle?" Actually, I don't remember much about it except that Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks played the same characters they played in "You've Got Mail." But the title is what I recall, and what I relate to this moment. Except I'm not in Seattle. I'm still in Virginia. And I've definitely had a few sleepless nights. My favorite one? When I realized I'd used all my comforters and blankets to pack my belongings in the pod, and I stood in my empty room staring at my tiny twin air mattress and thought, how's this gonna work? And then I got practical and put on layers and used my thick wool coat as a blanket. Except it kept slipping off all night, along with the cat, who was my true source of warmth, and I really didn't sleep much. But anyway, it's not Sleepless in Virginia that I want to talk about. Actually, I am currently Homeless in Virginia.
Today was the day. I closed that door (literally and figuratively) for the last time. I signed the papers and handed over the keys. I read the final number and wished it were being wired today instead of next week (because I've managed to rack up some bills during all this hullaballoo). And then I drove away. Little Bo kitty went with my son, Gray, in his truck to spend the day while I ran errands, had lunch with friends, and slipped in a chiropractic appointment (air mattresses plus packing plus bad back equals chiropractor agreeing that I am a "hot mess").
And I thought, I don't have a home. Not here, and not in Oregon either. Oh, worry you not, I have a place to sleep. The kindness of friends has been overwhelming...lunches and dinners and a room with a bed, and when I get to Oregon, I've got my sister and her husband to put me up when I need. But, I don't have a home. For the first time ever. It is truly a different and unique feeling. There is no where to return to. I, however, am adaptable! I can sleep on couches or guest beds or foam mattresses or air mattresses or futons. It's all good!
Bo is another story. This poor baby. He spent all of this morning and into the afternoon wedged behind the toilet at my son's father's house. I brought him to the friend's house where I'm staying for the next few days, and guess where he went? Behind the toilet. Eventually, I thought he might be cold and lonely, so I dragged him out, his claws attempting to find purchase on the tile floor, and brought him into my room, setting him gently on the bed atop that same wool coat/blanket. I pet him and cooed at him and told him what a good boy he was for a good 10 minutes. And then I slowly stood up (my back creaking and protesting at the awkward position I'd just been in) and he immediately dove for the pillows and burrowed into them, making a nest cave kind of thing. And there he's been for about 4 hours now.
I'm a little concerned. He hasn't had anything to drink all day, and he hasn't used "the facilities" either. I did coerce him into eating his dinner (which is imperative since I crush his seizure meds into tuna twice a day to prevent said seizures). But he's dug himself even deeper, and I wonder what I'll find in the morning. Hopefully not a urine soaked pillow.
And sadly, poor guy, the torture will continue for at least a week. After several days here, we go on the plane. This, I am sure, will be traumatic...for me if not for him. I did ask the vet for sedatives...for me. Once the long day of travel finally ends, we'll be at my sister's, and then at an airbnb, and then, hopefully, at our new home. So he's got a lot of pillow-burrowing to do over these next weeks.
I think that he and I represent different ends of the coping spectrum. We are both experiencing a lot of change and uncertainty in a short amount of time. We are both out of our element and depending on those who like/love us to make sure we're safe and cared for. But while I've accepted that discomfort and change will be the feelings du jour for a while, he has not "leaned in" to all of this, to quote Brene Brown, and is suffering from the self-inflicted pain of resistance. I fear his path will be a lot rockier than mine. Then again, he doesn't have to do anything but sleep it off while I figure things out, so it may be that his tortured existence these next few weeks is still far less labor-intensive and requires far less mental energy than mine,
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