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Whenever I hear the word “derailed” in my mind’s eye I see the final scene of Bridge on the River Kwai, a film I’ve seen dozens of times, the first likely before I was ten. And so it was we were deep in this word “derailed” this last month when we suddenly learned that we were not going to be able to buy the house we are living in, one that we’ve been so drawn to since even before we received our 60-day notice in El Granada, last December. After all the emails with the attorney, the bank, the escrow company, and then a sudden, “No.” The news had that film quality; we’d worked very hard to build something, make this home happen, and then the “What have I done?” moment as the plan felt like it was destroyed.
Timing. We give it many names: Destiny, Fate, Kismet, the will of God. The precise, exquisite influence of timing moves people into new positions as surely as a spring flood rearranges the landscape. It is as unavoidable as life. ~ Helen Van Slyke
Luckily, we aren’t at war, prisoners of war, and nothing is blowing up. In fact, our lives are seemingly safer than many of our friends who are facing more Delta variant virus outbreaks in their US communities. Nevertheless, Michael and I have been trudging in this “why is this happening” muck while trying to keep everything upbeat and normal for the kiddos. So much is going well, but like the completion of the bridge, this change was not in our trajectory. Or at least it seemed that way.
A few days before we learned about not being able to buy the house, the feral mama cat who we’d been feeding started having her kittens on our roof. We learned from friends that this was her third pregnancy, and with the other two, the father cat promptly arrived and killed the kittens right after their birth. 😳 This time, though, we had been feeding her, and she was stronger.
We kept our distance, but noticed with my zoom lens camera that she had three. After some time, the kittens were getting dangerously close to the edge of the roof, so we moved them to a box and put them where the mama could get them. After a lot of drama, including having to cut the placenta off of one of the kitten’s legs, the mama cat only took two kittens with her. We couldn’t let the one left behind, the smallest, die. So, Michael has taken on the role of Madregata, feeding the kitten special formula from the vet every couple of hours around the clock for the last 21 days. We think (fingers-crossed) that Izzy (Lazlo named it) will survive. She/he? is three weeks old today.
But, whew, the lack of sleep, the news about the house, and my summer work, prep for fall, and class grading has felt like a lot the last few weeks. We’ve had moments or days that felt sort of nihilistic. “Maybe this is all just random junk that happens.” I didn’t fully forget the magic or the unmistakable serendipities that lined up to bring us here. And I’ve been sticking with my meditation & yoga practices. Yet, we were feeling undeniably stuck and confused.
Then we started telling a few local Tico friends and expats, and it was amazing to us how quickly they all leapt at the opportunity to help us. Immediate generosity and concern. It was deeply reassuring. Nothing is solid yet, but within a few days a house lined up. It looks like we have a new place to rent that is full of character, close by, similar to this place, and will save us a lot as far as rent. And during this process, we’ve been reminded of other opportunities and options–maybe even buying land of our own to build the exact house we want. So our singular vision has been widened. We are feeling open. Tired, but open. Instead of derailed, it feels more like we’ve been given new glasses and our vision is still adjusting. And slowly, I’m feeling my attachment to this house shift into excitement about what is going to unfold later this fall.