When I decided to move from Denver to Grand Junction, the plan was that I would ride Amtrac here to find job and housing, and then make the move out. But like so many things we think we've orchestrated nice and neatly, that's not how it went.

I was so happy about deciding to come here. Some of you may remember my writing about it, the trip out I called "Painting My Wagon". As the train pulled into Grand Junction, anticipation reigned. For a moment or two, I almost broke into song.
but that's another part of this story.

Twenty days later I was mostly unpacked in a new apartment, and about to begin a new nursing job. I wasn't thrilled about having to work twelve hour shifts, but since that's what they do here, would give it my best.

I'm not convinced God really wants people to unfold out of bed at four thirty a.m., but I tried. I really did. Got a second alarm clock, an extra loud one, and set them both, just in case one wouldn't wake me.

Didn't over sleep and be late for work, but the first hours there felt more like sleep walking. Like I said, four thirty a.m. does not sound like a normal time to get out of bed. I kept trying to get used to it, but mostly just longed for days away from work.

Even that bothered me. For almost 25 years I've looked forward to doing my work. I thought I was doing all right with it, at least that's what I told myself. It seemed I fit right in. Most of the other nurses looked sleep deprived, too.

So I kept up the pace, and looked forward to a better work schedule. I did that from part of June, on into September, when something else changed things even more.

Corporate decided nurses would use a computer program, a change from how we've done our paperwork that somewhat resembles what the invention of the printing press did to writing.

It's not that a really good program wouldn't be more effective than the archaic way we've done things. It's the archaic electrical wiring that makes it difficult to find a place to plug the lap tops into. It's many things. Until I decided to give up dealing with all this, only five nurses had left because of it. I am number six.

I will miss my daughter Barb at A Chelsea Morning. I will miss her daughters, and little Cameron, and Chelsea, too. When I go to Barb's that little creature becomes almost ballistic, jumps all over me, then backs off, and looks at me, then jumps some more, making little sounds that, if she could, would come out like words. Even the doggy, if she could, would sing.

But I don't feel like singing right now. Whether I stay, or whether I go, either way brings tears. You've all probably had to make choices about things, too. That's how I was feeling this morning, when something very special happened.

Some may wonder, why is this so difficult. Everybody sometimes faces changes. The worst one in my life was when my son ended his. For me, the music stopped that day. Since then, I hadn't listened to any, until today, when I clicked on A Chelsea Morning, and soft music poured out, a young man singing about not giving up, and how everybody wants to be understood, and loved.

So I thank you, Barb, for starting the music again. After I listened to it, I chose an old CD from a rack, and started it playing. Tomorrow ,I'll play it again. It is time to let the music back in.