Trish St.Hill

Visit my website at http://www.trishsthill.com

Like most people, my ability to embrace change is very difficult. As someone who just went through some serious changes, I am very mindful of the importance of letting go. In 2024, I retired from my job after almost 30 years, a milestone that felt surreal and momentous. One month after I retired, I lost my beloved mother, a profound loss that left an indelible mark on my heart. Six months later, my only son informed me he wanted to join the military, a decision that both filled me with pride and anxiety. It was a tumultuous time, to say the least, a whirlwind of emotions that made daily life feel like navigating through a storm. But my motto of making lemonade when life threw you lemons prevailed, and I found myself diving deeper into self-reflection.

I hatched a grand plan: I was going to get into my writing career full-time and spend time in the Caribbean, an escape that represented both a fresh start and a healing journey. It was a vision that felt vibrant and invigorating, one that promised adventure and exploration beyond the familiar rhythm of my everyday life. However, there is a saying that when man/woman makes plans, God has other ideas, and soon I found myself at a crossroads. The decision loomed over me like a gray cloud, as I debated whether to sell my house, a space filled with years of memories and cherished moments. My daughter was in the market for a home, and after much deliberation, the decision was made to sell her my house, allowing me to stay with her while still spending my winters in the Caribbean.

I am a typical Caribbean woman of a certain age, deeply connected to my roots and heritage, which shape my identity and perspectives profoundly. I love antique furniture—the large china cabinet, credenza, antique chairs, and Queen Anne center table; they are more than just items to me; they are treasures that tell stories of the past. I always believed that they were the epitome of elegance, embodying a rich sense of character and history. Out of respect, my daughter decided to create my own living room and put her own touch in the rest of the house, which I appreciated, yet I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, a longing for the way things had always been.

The china cabinet was too big for my newly configured living room, so I decided to see if anyone wanted it, thinking it deserved a good home. My antique credenza was priceless, or so I thought, brimming with memories and stories only I could appreciate. So, I placed an ad on Facebook Marketplace as well as in my community WhatsApp chat, hoping to find someone who shared my appreciation for these items. However, the response was underwhelming. One lady showed up for the China cabinet and immediately declared that it was too big for the space she had, leaving me momentarily deflated. No one even showed interest in the credenza, and I scratched my head in wonderment, grappling with the perplexing thought of how everyone could not see the beauty in my priceless antiques.

Days turned into weeks, and with a heavy heart, I eventually decided to call sanitation for a special pickup truck, a decision that felt like a final farewell to a significant chapter in my life. I stood on my patio as the truck crushed my beautiful pieces of furniture, screaming “noooo” the whole time, a visceral reaction that echoed my heartbreak. My heart was breaking with each piece destroyed, and I felt that I would never get the image of those beautiful furniture being crushed out of my head, a haunting memory that lingered like a painful shadow over my spirit. It felt like a symbolic severing of ties to the past, marking the end of an era, and with it a spectrum of emotions that were hard to process.

Winter rolled around, and my thirst for the tropics took over; the allure of sun-soaked beaches and vibrant sunsets became impossible to resist. So, off to the homeland I went to mend my broken heart, seeking solace in the familiar warmth of the Caribbean sun, where I hoped to find healing amidst the gentle waves and fragrant breezes that had once brought me joy. The days there were painted with hues of tranquility, allowing me to reflect on the life I had lived and the significant transitions that had sculpted my journey thus far.

About a month and a half into my trip, I received an email. Someone wanted to interview me. I felt it strange because I did not apply for the job, it turned out they must have gotten my resume from a job board I had posted my resume on years ago. I did the interview and never expected to get called. About six weeks later I got a call that they wanted to check my references. At this point, a part of me was hoping they wouldn’t give me the job, because I had my retirement all planned. I returned to New York torn between staying retired and getting back in the job market. My apprehension grew as I reflected on my previous work experience in corporate America and the private sector; this job was a government position with a union, presenting a different environment from what I was used to.

My daughter did not think I should accept the job. “Ma, why would you want to come out of retirement?” she asked, her voice laced with concern for my well-being. “Try being locked up in a house all day talking to a dog who can’t answer you back?” I chuckled at her with humor, realizing that her concern was rooted in love. So, with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, I decided to give it a try. I went through my training and finally made it to my post. The first day, I fully expected to hate it. But surprisingly, to my delight, I loved the job and the team more than I could have ever anticipated. As days went by, my admiration and enjoyment for the work grew deeper.

Through this new chapter, I discovered a few enlightening truths about myself. I am quite adaptable; change, I realized, is necessary and healthy. We just have to let go of old stuff and ways of doing things and embrace the change that life presents us. The fear of change can often paralyze us, holding us back and bringing unnecessary pain. However, if we can release our baggage and face the changes in our lives, it could lead to beautiful new beginnings. Today, I don’t dwell on that furniture I lost; instead, I cherish the memories and lessons learned. I still have my chairs, side table, and Queen Anne table, remnants of my past that now feel like beacons of what I have overcome.

It dawned on me that I didn’t need to clutter up my space simply because I was afraid to let go of the old. My daughter eventually added a fireplace, did the floors, and bought new furniture that brought warmth and modernity into the home. And although I wouldn’t say it out loud, I recognized she has great taste, and I am growing to love her modern style. As for the pieces I once thought were to die for, I must admit they weren’t that cute at all in hindsight. One day, my daughter asked if I needed her help decorating my living room space. I was tempted to say no, wanting to hold on to what I thought was my vision. But I decided to accept her help this time. Surprising to me, with just some decorative cushions here and a few other thoughtful decorations there, my space transformed into something remarkably beautiful, while still maintaining it’s antique essence.

This experience reinforced a powerful lesson: Change is a healthy thing. Letting go can be liberating; it allows us to embrace new opportunities, expand our horizons, and revitalize our lives. When we hold onto the past, we often stifle our potential and limit our growth. By choosing to release old habits, fears, or even relationships that no longer serve us, we create space for fresh beginnings. Take a deep breath, step into the unknown, and embrace a healthy change, for it is through these transformations that we cultivate resilience, innovation, and a renewed sense of purpose. Each change brings with it a chance to learn and adapt, encouraging us to explore paths we may never have considered before, ultimately leading to a more fulfilling existence.