I’m up early trying to collect some thoughts and feelings; they’re not gathering into any sort of cohesive picture that allows me to feel more settled here, in this very new place.
I just found a comment from my husband on my last post. He wrote it last night after I was asleep. I wonder if anyone else will find it, read it? It’s long. It’s embarrassingly complimentary and only partially true. Here are some kernels of truth in it:
His card playing analogy, where I am "all in" is true although I am not at all in a playful mood. And what he doesn’t say is that I am not "all in" gracefully. I’ve lost the life that I knew and the new life here is one of too many things in too small a space. It’s gotten to be all about life possessions that are rapidly losing their value. I’m not the sort of person you want at your card party right now. I am often forgetting that I made this life changing choice and I feel resentful, out-of-control and angry. Not pretty (like Hoss).
It’s also true that he has not done a very good job of supporting me in this move. He is being quite the "guy." All those stereotypes about men that are funny in stand up comedy routines are not so funny now. The one liner where a perfectly intelligent human being turns into a mindless doofus who unpacks a garden rake and asks if he should put it in the garage or the two square foot front hall closet. The good one about the guy who connects his small portable television in the middle of a walled castle of book boxes so he can watch Tiger play golf while he "organizes his office."
Left to his own devices my husband would help bring some order to this place but not the way I want it, not at my pace, not with me at the helm. So we are a bad fit at the moment. I am demanding and hostile; he is passively, annoyingly obtuse. A not-so-funny comedy routine.
But then he redeems himself by going out late at night and trading an
electric dryer for a gas dryer with a total stranger in the hinterlands
of Chicago so we can get the laundry going here. It’s a long story for
another day but it involved hauling two dryers up and down three
It’s true that I haven’t written much of anything meaningful for weeks now. That muse is in absentia; hopefully she will be back from whatever island of inspired good cheer soon. I miss her.
I miss my mother. I miss living in the same town as my son. I miss my daughter, who is moving herself from one apartment to another in anticipation of the new school year. I miss Patti and Audrey and Roberta and Judy and Amy. My garden, The birds at the feeders.
Now, I’m starting to cry and I feel as though I can’t right now but maybe in a week or two, when Rich is in Switzerland I’ll let myself have that really good heaving, soul-cleansing cry that turns the page on grief.
I want to go see Bud this coming week but that will have to wait a couple weeks. I want to unbell, uncollar Sophie and let her out to silently, stealthily explore in that feline way, but the look in her eyes suggests she is still mapping a return to the familiar so that wil have to wait, too.
I need to pull it together here. I hear the shower running; my sister Laurel came to help (read "rescue") me this weekend with her husband and my nephew. They are willing to pitch in and do the brute labor of tearing down boxes, haul stuff up and down, drag junk in and out of the same rooms repeatedly. With smiles and support and good will. Remember when I wrote about good sisters in times of need? True again.
Yesterday we all took a small field trip across Oz Park to the Saturday market and got fresh corn and tomatoes and basil for last night’s first dinner. We got bunches of flowers to place here and there in the chaos. Maybe this morning we will go to Chinatown for dim sum.
My friend Gene comes to visit in two days and, as unkind as this thought is, I’m relieved he is not big into stairs; there’s a chance I can clear out this main floor so we can have a good visit and talk about his love life and he’ll completely fail to notice what’s on the floors above. I’m looking forward to that visit.
I sent Bud a bright pink shirt that reads, "Life is short" on the front and "Boats are cool" on the back. I also sent him two new marine spark plugs so he can "go faster". When I start writing more I’ll tell you all about the pontoon boat that has given his life new meaning this past 6 weeks. THAT is a wonderful story,
My sweet friend in Seattle ended yesterday’s comment, writing that she continues to hold me in her prayers.That thought eased me throught the night and started this random Sunday morning. The Shakers used to say, "Hands to work, Heart to God." And Psalms 84 says, "Yea, the sparrow hath found a house…"