Did you see the Krispy Kremes? I know. Those things are crack. I've had four doughnuts today plus birthday cake (again)(not mine) and I'll be rolling into the new house tomorrow at any rate. Thank heavens it's downhill all the way.
That's what it's been so far, hasn't it? We actually left the condominium a few days earlier than planned due to a mixup and came out into the countryside to hang out with Lochlan's family. We're surrounded by horses here. It's a lot like Nolan's only more lush and far larger than the the little grove on the prairie where Ben and I fell in love. It's downright picture-perfect, like a postcard only without a hint of familiarity so far and Ben keeps patiently driving me around my new neighborhood and we practice left-right-left so I can memorize the way home and the way to the grocery store because for the first time in oh, thirty-eight years or so I'm going to enter car culture, where everyone drives everywhere because there is nothing within walking distance and the hills are so steep I fear for my life sometimes.
The house is still remote but I'm finally beginning to get flutters of excitement here and there like fireflies you can see just after the sun goes down.
The very first thing I took notice of today were the outlets on the outside of the house. For my tiny white lights. The expanse of verandah that will hold my favorite all-weather chairs and the windchimes I hear best. I didn't catch them the first time, just like I failed to notice there's a blooming lilac and a dogwood tree in my yard and both are flowering presently.
Last evening we stood outside and listened to the frogs and peepers and crickets and holy, it was LOUD. I heard them before Ben had the door open all the way and it was glorious. It was just like Greenfield, actually, only without the Medway river muffling everything save for the sound of the occasional car traveling swiftly through on the way to lonely nowhere.
(I only spent a few weeks there each summer (for fifteen years, mind you) growing up and oddly that is the first thing this reminds me of.)
The farmer's market here is packed, the strawberries run cheap and there are honey bees and horses and waterfalls and festivals around every bend. Like a movie only not, once again because it's real life. Except that I have to drive to my mailbox. I don't know where it is yet.
We've decided to stay on here until our moving truck arrives, rather than try and rough it in the house. A relief and a setback, because if I can go in the house tomorrow I know I won't want to leave, but really we can't sleep on the floor and we don't have dishes and pots and pans and blankets and anything. It's all on the truck and it would just be more comfortable to stay on a few more days than risk getting out of sorts any more than we are.
And we are. Ben's going into month five living out of a suitcase and the children have run out of patience for change. Different foods, different schedules and the total lack of familiarity take a toll on everyone. We need to just hold out a few more days. That's all.
Just a few more. We can manage. Character building, they call it. Sigh.
No more cross-country moves ever. Stick a fork in me, I'm so done I'm burnt and completely inedible, looks like you'll have to get take out after all.
Adapt or die, princess.
Indeed, Jacob. I am doing my best.
