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The Key(s) to Happiness

I remember the first time, as a kid, that I had my first Keys. One was to a small plastic footlocker I had some toys and stuff in. (very secure) The other was a Key to our house. The day my parents gave me a key to the front door. That was HUGE. I was beside myself. Scared too. What did this mean? Are you leaving me in charge of something, to come into this place by myself? And now I’m gonna need to get a Keychain of some sort. That was cool. Then came the responsibility to, from that day forward, always have my keys in my right pants pocket. 

As is the case, you “grow up”, you get more keys. House, Cars, Work, Office, Mailbox. I tried to always keep it to a minimum. But we all know those people who have so many keys, it’s like they’re Captain Kangaroo. (Dated reference. Google it.)

Living in San Francisco, we didn’t need a car. We did the ZipCar thing. So, no car keys. I had my keyring down to just 3 Keys. Condo. Mailbox. And the Studio door at the Radio Station where I worked. In fact, as we'd leave the house together, my ex wife, leaving her keys at home would always ask, "got your keys?" I would just look and say, "I will never leave home without my keys. Ne-ver." (I'm just neurotic that way) She always asked. I always answered. (She couldn't wait until the day I left them. Never gonna happen)

Then, a couple of years ago, we decided to move to México, we sold everything. I mean EVERY. THING. Condo. All our stuff. Pared 30 years down to 6 suitcases. No more house/mailbox keys. No more Studio key.

I was Keyless. 

After all those years of habitually patting my right pocket to make sure my keys were there, I felt kinda naked. More than a bit scared. What does this mean? Until we get to México and get an apartment and stuff, unless I have some change on me, my right front pocket will be...empty.

Over the next 10 days, in a hotel before the big move, I went from a panic when I’d tap my right pocket..oh, no, where are my...oh, yeah..to a feeling of Freedom. 

I felt lighter. (and even though I’m an over-responsible type A) Less to have to be responsible for. 

Ahhh. Never felt this before. A new experience.

But, alas, we get to our destination. A new apartment key. New mailbox key. I’ve got it down to just 2. I’m a grownup again.

 I don’t have the Key to Happiness. But for 10 glorious days, I was a free man. 

I had a taste of the Lightness Of Being and learned that we let too many little things

weigh us down.