TIME TO MYSELF AGAIN??? Time to write, to draw, to paint? Oh, I tried to get out of it -- tried to run downtown to West Elm or CB2 -- to get some things for the new house. But Pat pushed me to "go find some inner peace." Perhaps he really was listening when I said I wanted some time to stare up at the tree tops to ingest and process all of the changes.
I've begun this post a million times in my head over the past several weeks since I've been offline. I've wanted to tell you about all of the small stores we can walk to from our new house (including Anabelle pushing her mini pink stroller), about the sprawling green lawns and the huge trees. how all of the coffee shops have cork boards exploding with community events, how so many people walk and bike by our house, how so many of them are family just dropping in for a quick visit. how my old friends know about the city's summer festivals, the free outdoor concerts for kids, which beach is best for parking.
and most of all... how much more there is than even that.
I spent the first few weeks here in a sleepy fog of humidity and heat. I thought I was anemic. But apparently I was just feeling the affects of being pregnant in the summer. Luckily, unlike when we were growing up, we have central air, and we have an almost-two year old who has been taking monstrously long 3 and 4 hour naps. Anyway, I think I've moved past the haze, and much of my energy is back. 98% of our boxes are unpacked, the walls are painted (glorious colors if I do say so - including our "twilight magenta" powder room), rugs are down, couches are in place. Anabelle is happy. So happy. And talking up a storm. And refusing to wear almost anything but pink. The pitter patter of her bare feet on the hard wood floors makes me nostalgic even today... when years of that little sound still lay ahead.
What a feeling to live in a place that is just right. To be where you know you really belong. It's a gift to have such roots and be so sure about something, isn't it. All at the same time, I am aware that so much of that feeling is in the leaving and coming back. That could be why not one, but two engagements to the same man could be very important (to a gal named Flowergirl anyway.) wink wink.
So now that I am a bit more settled I feel a leeeettle less frantic about everything being organized, every bit of mail sorted, every toy in its place. And Pat feels a leeeettle less frenetic about marks on our freshly painted walls. We're settling in and settling down. Eventually we'll have our schedules set and our routines down. For now, Grandpa and Grammie took Anabelle down to the Nature Museum in the city, and I have proudly carved out some time to stare up at the trees, so to speak.