How time changes things

Well, here I am.
Fifty-seven years old.
A high school teacher for thirty years; twenty-seven in the same school.
A thirty-eight year Texan.

And now I retired.
I want to spend time with my mother, I want to be with my family in Oklahoma, I want to move on to something new.

So here I am.

In the process of moving and preparing what to do. And we all know how that goes ... What do I keep? What do I sell? What do I give away? What do I throw away? Why am I losing my mind? Why do I feel stressed? Do I really need to go through this?

Can I just set fire to the whole damned thing and say done?

Coming up ... It'll be a whole new world ... A new fantastic point of view ... Cause I will be living with mom. She hasn't had anyone live with her since dad passed away.

It will be a difficult transition. For both. 

Mom has not had someone live with her in the last two years. She is used to her way of doing things and her way of preparing things.

It will be different for me too. I have never had a roommate. Now I'll have one. My mother. I need to start seeing her as my roomie (her suggestion) and not so much as my mom.

We've already had a couple of rough sessions, and I haven't even moved in yet! 

She assures me that in the fall since she will be teaching a class, I can have some time to myself to work out, watch tv, whatever.

I wanted a change. I wanted something different. I got it.