I put a blue sticky note on it so the movers wouldn't pack it. I carefully carried it to the car, hefting its astonishing weight, and placed it gently in the back seat.
Alone for a few moments at the new place, I picked it up again, and carried it close to my body up to the new bedroom and found its new spot where it snugly fits. I closed the door to the closet, pressed my hand against the door and then my forehead, breathed in...out. I sent it thoughts. Gratitude, disbelief, anger and a remnant of the shock I felt in every cell that day three years ago.
On June 4, it will have been 3 years since Dave died.
On June 5, barring any complications with inspections, I will close on a new house. A sweet little pale yellow 1940s Cape Cod in an incredible neighborhood with a big backyard.
On June 10, I should be all moved in. Deciding to move, finding a home and having my offer accepted in a really tough buyer's market all happened so effortlessly and easily, that from my current vantage, I can't remember exactly how I got from where I was to where I am now. It feels a lot like it did when I sold the house that Dave and I lived in together. I couldn't imagine leaving but then the pieces fell into place and once the move was in motion, it swept me along when I had just enough strength to go with the current and land where it took me.
The significance of the date of the closing and the third anniversary of Dave's death is not lost on me.
The house and the new beginning it offers feels fitting and it feels like a gift. I'm starting to see my future as a wealth of possibilities instead of a dark and lonely unknown.
I live in a wonderful city now. I've become more and more comfortable here. I like the weirdness, the outdoorsy-ness, the coffee shops, the rampant recycling and composting and organic gardening. I like the dogs and the green of the woods and the mist hanging in the west hills. I like the bridges and the dragon boats on the river. I like the people. Most of all I like the people.
This is a city where I often see people on their way to dinner or work, sit down on the sidewalk to talk to a person who is panhandling. Where they willingly sign up to help the environment or support gay marriage on their way to the office in the morning. This is a city where people will go out of their way for you. Once I was talking to a girlfriend at a bar and I was crying (can you guess what I was talking about?) and our waitress left the restaurant, went next door to get me chocolate and kleenex, and put them both on our table without a word and went back to her tables.
..... like someone alone in a canoe ...... with no oar, no compass.
I feel as though I'm living in some kind of in-between layer of life. It feels like I don't belong anywhere anymore ...... like a tree that's been cut away from its roots.
No place feels like "home" right now, or whatever "home" used to feel like.
My house in Texas is on the market and most of the time I feel like that's the right decision. But then the shadow of doubt creeps in and starts to cloud my mind and I don't know what's right for me.
...... even if it's a brand new home.
And sometimes ...... especially if it's a brand new home.
(Not new as in newly built, but new as in new to you.)
As most of you know, I've been splitting my time between Houston and New York City.
And I've loved being in NY.
I've always loved being in NY, but now I love it for additional reasons.
And the biggest reason is because ...... it's not like home.
Or rather, the place that used to be home.
It’s been a long time since I cried for three straight hours. I forgot how many rolls of toilet paper I can go through per hour. (Yes, I use toilet paper instead of Kleenex. TP is more efficient, less messy and much cheaper. When you are clocking nose blows at between 2 to 3 RPH – rolls per hour - cost matters.) I also forgot how bad the headaches can be.Read more
Well, things around here never seem to quite slow down. And lately, in particular, they've sped up into super speed! Steve accepted a new job position in Parkersburg, West Virginia. Oh, and we move next week! We are taking a ride on the crazy train and loving every minute of it. Well....almost every minute.Read more
This is a picture of Grayson and I waiting for Amtrak to take us to Disneyland almost 4 years ago. If you look closely, you can see Daniel's reflection in the glass behind us. He's taking the picture. I didn't realize until he was already gone that his reflection was captured in the photo, and he looks for all the world like a ghost, sort of watching us in the background. Sometimes this picture comforts me, and I do believe that he is watching over us. Other times, the picture just pisses me off; this is me not knowing the light at the end of the tunnel was a train. Either way, that discussion is for another day.Read more
There's something daunting about entering the place where your life last thrived. I know for a while now that I had to make a trip to Clarksville, TN, where David and I were stationed, but I chose not to dwell on the idea. To be honest, we'd be happy in a cardboard box so long as both of us fit in it, but Clarksville was never our favorite place to be. Yet, it was our home, we built a life and had a routine... we were happy here. At one point, I vowed never to come back. But as fate has it, our tenants moved out and our house needed some fixing. So! Off to Clarksville...Read more
I'm meeting the moving company today to inventory my house and take the next step in the move from Houston back to Austin. It's a big and quick change for us, and I've been forced to think a lot about life planning and what my intentions are both personally and professionally.Read more