Wednesday, June 11, 2008

I'm Supposed to be Packing but Instead I'm Blogging.

Lately I've been fumbling between rushing around and lazily procrastinating. I'm sorry to the mommies I stood impatiently behind yesterday during a "rushing around" moment.  Just inside the doors of Kroger, you both blocked me while you frantically wiped down your carts and kids with disinfectant wipes.  Yes, that was me rolling my eyes, shifting my weight from one foot to the other in hurried exasperation, heavy sighing.  Yes, that was me, the rebel mom who didn't use the wipes, who just wanted to blow through Kroger in 5 minutes or less to get the necessities - milk, juice, Three Musketeers new dark chocolate mint mini's.  I'm sorry, okay?  I let you down.  I didn't support your caring, responsible, germ-free ways.  

I'm afraid I have a false sense of security about how much packing I've done.  Just because the pictures have been taken off the walls it feels like a lot more has been done than what I know to be true.  It's behind the cabinets, inside the closets, under the bed; those are the places that get you.  And overwhelm you.  At least, so far, this is one of the most organized moves I have ever participated in.  Even Chris is on board.  Last night he brought up some vacuum bags to put with the other vacuum bags so they would all be together.  That's HUGE!  Instead of just stuffing those found bags in a random box, he brought them upstairs so that they could all be in one place.  My heart swelled with pride and skipped with joy.   

We all the supplies.  Lots of empty boxes.  Tape. Markers for labeling.  Lots of newspapers for wrapping.  I stare at them.  I carry them to another room.  I rearrange the empty boxes.  I decide I have more important things to do.  For example, going through my phone and assigning various ring tones to my contacts.  Sonar for Chris.  Crickets for my dad.  Sci-fi for my mother-in-law.  This is very important work.  A task that just must be done.  And of course, blogging about procrastination.  Isn't that like the pinnacle of procrastination? 

Sitting outside this morning, enjoying my coffee (procrastinating...I never sit outside to drink coffee), I thought about this house and all the things I will miss.  There is an elementary school behind our house.  Prospective buyers often asked us how loud it was and if the noise bothered us.  The answer, which I only just thought of, is if the sound of children playing is bothersome to you, then yes, you might consider it loud.  But you can only hear them if you're outside and to me, it's quite a lovely sound.  Children at play. 

When we bought this house it had been a rental.  It had not been loved.  We painted its dirty walls.  Uncovered hardwood floors under layer upon layer of vinyl and linoleum.  We put tile on the counter tops, installed new hardware, put up blinds and curtains, gave it a new roof and covered the old chalky aluminum siding with a nice taupe.  We planted azaleas and monkey grass.  We hung a flag and trimmed the trees.  We loved it like a house should be loved and it became a home.  

These walls have seen so much joy and so much heartbreak.  We brought baby Ace home to this house.  We celebrated Louie's first birthday here.  And, of course, that night we sat on the back steps, crumpled heaps of brokenness after receiving Louie's diagnosis. We've come a long way since that night.  A lot of grieving and a lot of healing has taken place.  There is one thing I will be leaving this house with that I didn't have before (besides Ace) and that is an anchor in the present.  The reason for this change, for this new in-the-moment me, you might assume is that I've had some epiphany or inspiration; that spiritually I've reached new ground.  But it's not that.  Actually, it's pretty much fear-based.  The reason is that the future is a scary place to go now.  So I don't visit it as often.  And I just became cognizant of this last night...that I no longer tell myself that worn out line, "Well, when this happens or that happens, then I'll be happy." I'm just happy today.  And that's really nice.  It's a gift and I'll take it. I will take that anchor and cling to it.  

Wednesday, June 4, 2008

A Love Letter

My Dearest One Way Sign

Well, the verdict is in.  Just as we suspected.  I overheard the P-Units talking last night and we are in fact moving.  They've been saving all my diaper boxes; the Portable On Demand Storage unit sits coldly in the driveway; I've overheard the many phone calls with the realtor. But I've been in denial.  Until last night when it became plain and clear.  I can't ignore the signs (excuse the pun) anymore.  They are rushing around, actually putting stuff  in the diaper boxes, sorting through things for a garage sale, and generally running around like parents who have to move their entire house the week after they return from vacation.  Good times.  Good times.  

Anyway, get this.  We're moving to a subdivision.  Seriously.  A subdivision.  I don't understand them and they're American consumption mindset.  Especially during a recession.  They say they want more space, more closets, more this, more that.  What they don't seem to be considering here is what this is going to do to you and me.  I simply can't bear the thought of leaving you.  Alone at the end of the street with only strangers nearby.  

I know, I know.  I understand that you can't leave Battle Avenue.  And that you are needed to direct drivers to not drive in both directions on your street.  Your job is important.  You save lives.  I get it.  Let's try looking on the bright side - my parents have friends who live in the neighborhood so I'm thinking that I will at least get to visit on occasion.  It's not like I get to see you all that much as it is.  Just so you know, I give them the picture of you all the time.  That's how I "ask" to go see you.  Many times they dismiss me and say "Not right now."  "Well, then when?" I ask.  "When?"  

My parents think they're doing me a favor by allowing me to see you once, maybe twice, a day.  And when they finally do take me to see you, then they set that stupid timer for 3 minutes and then make me leave when it goes off.  You know what I'm talking've seen it firsthand.  Do they really think 3 minutes is long enough for us to be together?  Don't they see my agony when they rip me away from you?  Don't they see the pain they cause?  They simply don't understand me or our relationship.  

I have to admit, I was wooed by a handicapped sign the other day.  But quite honestly, it did nothing for me in the end.  It was too small and I don't care for the blue color with white lettering.  It's nothing compared to your bold black block letters set strikingly against the chalky bone white.  Your steely strong body.  The way you say the same thing on both sides. You amaze me.  Your beauty is undeniable.  You always make me smile.  In fact, I smile the minute I set foot on the sidewalk and I can see you standing strong in the distance.  When I finally get my hands on you, I find it so very hard to let go.  I just simply want to hold you and look up at your beautifully delightful black and white face.  

Please know, it's not my choice to move.   I don't want to.   I will think of you often.  You are my one true love.  And you always will be. 


Yours Truly and Forever, 

One Way