Hi everyone and happy February! It’s been damn chilly even in North Carolina. I keep imagining what it’ll be like next year as we sail south to avoid the cold weather. It seems surreal that we’ll be heading out on our big cruising adventure in less than nine months. Colleagues at my day job joke around that I can always stay, if I want. To be honest, part of me hesitates to give up my work as a public sector attorney. But then there’s that big beautiful boat waiting in South Carolina (we moved her over the winter holidays) and the promise of taking time to explore and not worrying about hopping a plane home.
Leaving the life I’ve lived for 30+ years isn’t easy 
. Yes, we downsized after the kids went to college (from a 2700 square foot house to a 1400 square foot apartment downtown). But this time we’re probably going to be packing up 90% of our stuff while we live full-time aboard Prelude for a few years.
So I’m letting go of things. Like my work wardrobe. And all those heels. And dressier coats, pants, blouses, you name it. We’re scanning photographs onto hard drives and tossing photo albums. My office moved a few weeks back and I threw away a bunch of things, knowing that in 9 months I won’t have an office to store them in anymore.
It’s really hard. We spend our lives hoarding things. Each little chatchke has a story or an emotion attached to it. There are clothes I’ve held onto for years hoping to fit back in to. Shoes I can’t imagine being able to walk in anymore, but that are too pretty to give away. Things that are tangible remnants of the person I hoped to be.
Material things often connect us to a place and a feeling. Hopes and dreams. What you thought you’d do, what you thought you’d become as a person when you were younger.
Letting go doesn’t just mean giving things away. It’s not just about the heartbreak of knowing you can’t keep every picture your children painted when they were little. It’s not just about the memory attached to the souvenir you bought or the shell you found on that amazing beach vacation.
Letting go is about moving on from expectations. It’s about new beginnings. But those beginnings don’t happen without some pain, some loss. Moving on and starting a new adventure is bittersweet–wonderful and painful all at once. Frightening too.
The roller coaster is poised atop the biggest hill I’ve faced in a long time. There’s lots of great stuff to be found at the end, but first I need to close my eyes and let go of all the baggage I’ve held onto for the past 30 years, both good and bad. The only way to move forward is to face the past and let it go. Peace. -Shira
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Shira Anthony was a professional opera singer in her last incarnation, performing roles in such operas as Tosca, i Pagliacci, and La Traviata, among others. She’s given up TV for evenings spent with her laptop, and she never goes anywhere without a pile of unread M/M romance on her Kindle. You can hear Shira singing “Vissi d’arte” from Puccini’s Tosca by clicking here: Shira’s Singing
Shira loves a great happily-ever-after and never writes a story without one. She’s happy to write what her muse tells her, whether it’s fantasy, sci fi, paranormal, or contemporary romance. She particularly loves writing series, because she thinks of her characters as old friends and she wants to visit them even after their stories are told.
In real life, Shira sang professionally for 14 years, and she currently works as a public sector attorney advocating for children. She’s happy to have made writing her second full-time job, even if it means she rarely has time to watch TV or go to the movies. Shira writes about the things she knows and loves, whether it’s music and musicians, the ocean, or the places she’s lived or traveled to. She spent her middle school years living in France, and tries to visit as often as she can.
Shira and her husband spend as many weekends as they can aboard their 36′ catamaran sailboat, Land’s Zen, at the Carolina Coast. Not only has sailing inspired her to write about pirates and mermen, her sailboat is her favorite place to write. And although the only mermen she’s found to date are in her own imagination, she keeps a sharp lookout for them when she’s on the water.