It keeps dawning on me lately that I have lived in this house longer than any house I have ever lived in before. When the GFYO turned five, I realized that my Youngest was now older than my Oldest was when he was born. This relentless house realization feels the same: transformative. As if it makes me something different literally.
A decade plus inside these old and crooked walls, on this hilly and busy street, in this cranky, swanky village built on rocky ledge, that must do something to a person, shouldn't it? To a person who also, by the way, no longer has any toddlers in her dwelling place? That makes her something kind of newish, no?
Maybe. Maybe it just makes me older, with plenty of old paint cans and useless pieces of furniture in the basement which is now empty of strollers and exersaucers and giant plastic reminders of how things "used to be." Maybe the facts and figures of a life can change, but the person living the life? Maybe that's static. Maybe I am still the brave and ambitious risk-taker I was before I became this settled-down, post picket fence me.
I'm kind of banking on that actually, because the reality that me and The Kid and the Little Pickets might unsettle from this spot is a real one. He needs a job, a career-making one really, and the world is wide (and the Boston market is bad) and hey, let's go. I'm game! I'm a risk-taker (remember?) and as long as we have wifi, let's get in the proverbial van, dude! With the kids.
Oh, who need to go to school. And be fed and housed and play soccer and maybe hockey and make friends and wait, wait one minute...
So I squeeze out all the information from the cable hooked to my computer so I can research every public school system pretty much every place he mentions as a possibility. I look at frames and frames of houses I will never see in real life and maps and stats of towns and cities I have never been before. I have moved us into a house on an island off of Washington, into a gated development in Austin, into a tree-less mcmansion in the South, in row houses without yards but Oprah nearby, into the tiniest sweet thing we could afford in the suburbs of New York and San Francisco.
In my mind, or online, I am relentlessly brave and on the road. In reality, I drive down twisted streets at 7pm, on the way to the final PTO meeting of the year, and the sun is like Hollywood lighting: highlighting the peeks of gabled homes and making them glisten and golden. The ocean is calm and greenishly gray and filling with boats and I know if not the names, the faces of every one I see. And I think for a minute, like a flash it just comes, what will it be like to leave here?
16commentsBrilliant Person Wrote...
I'm so glad you're back to writing in here because you my friend can empty a head like nobodys business.
We did that last year. We moved halfway across the country without ever packing a box. Tried it on, checked out the schools - all via the internet and telephone.
And then we realized that if the cat is sick after the vet's office is closed, we know what bar to find the vet in. This is home.
Wow, this is a tough one. If you need to do move I hope you can make home wherever you go.
What kind of business is The Kid into? Email me if you want to let me know. Depending what it is, I may know some people.
Well, however it turns out, life is all about experiences, and you've shown time and again that you have a gift for turning even life's most mundane activities into performance art. I'm sure the adventure queen in you would rise to the challenge if you had to make a move.
The roots of the Old Oak are strong and unyielding. They crack the sidewalks and the foundations and the Driveways.
Yet the canopy sways and bends with the Wind.
A complex ballet of Ebb and Flow. a desire to move, and stay put.
I am the Lorax. And I speak for the Trees.
I really hope you never find out.
We have done that virtual move a couple of times as well. Neither one has panned out - even though I was sure at least one would.
It's tough. It's so hard to think of leaving where we are now - but the lure of a lesser mortgage sure is a strong one.
I think you know what it would be like to leave there. It would be incredibly hard, as it always is to pull up and take off when you are tied to a place. But it could also be exciting and broadening (cheesy word, but true) and a really great thing. Thinking of it as an adventure is the only way to go.
Good luck, Ms. P. May the Froce be with you.
Um. "Force." Yeah. That.
Scary but in an exciting way? And I know you know what home is. It's not the building.
I love your writing.
Oh, and Kansas City rocks! *wink*
Oh, my dear. This isn't easy. We did this almost two years ago and you can do it, too. Exciting and scary!!
I would miss you, The Kid and mini Pickets like crazy. Plus you've been on my wall as my emergency contact for babysitters since Nash was born and really, I don't know if I can find it in me to change that.
But life if full of surprises and adventures and you just have to take what's dealt to you and make the most of it. Something you pretty much rock at already.
But serioiusly, don't you dare leave.
I've never lived a decade in one town, nevermind one house. I'd like to someday.
We moved almost a year ago. There are things we miss. But we've learned, home is where we all are. Check things out. Go with your gut. I hope you have peace in your decision making.
Love it! Love your wanderlust - I've always had it, so I travel whenever possible!
I've been in basically the same city except for like 2 years of my life and dream of leaving but then, I wonder how I'd really feel if it came true...
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