Obligatory early May anniversary post as Rebecca begins her thirds.
This week marks two years at this address and eight years since Sara and I moved to this city. Leaving my hometown doesn't feel like eight years ago; I can still so vividly remember packing up our old apartment and hitting the road. Living at this address, on the other hand, has been a long, slow, hard adjustment for me, and it feels a lot longer than just two years.
Two years. I have seen the lanai covered with pollen in the spring, leaves in the fall, and snow and ice in the winter. Twice I have walked around the house closing the crawlspace vents in the fall and opening them in the spring. Twice Sara and I have put the cover over the air-conditioning unit in the fall and taken it off in the spring. Twice I have seen the white narcissus, the daffodils, and the Bradford pear blooming in the backyard. Twice I have made charoset in the kitchen for Passover. Twice Sara and I have watched The Sound of Music on TV before Christmas (although we missed most of it last year) and the Oscars. * I have changed air filters, scrubbed bathrooms, dusted floorboards, oiled squeaky hinges, and thawed out a frozen faucet. I have trimmed bushes, raked leaves, mowed grass, sawed down bamboo stumps, dug up bamboo roots, ripped out poison ivy, rearranged rocks, and much more in the backyard.
And I still too often feel like I’m not doing a good job at any of it. I still too often resent this house for being a burden. I love having Athena and her kids over, but I’ve never willingly invited over anyone else because I hate it so much that I don’t really understand why anyone would want to spend time here. How much longer will it take before I feel like I know what I’m doing? Right now, I’m trying to remind myself of how strange living in this city felt when we first moved here, and how much I missed my hometown. Now, I think I’ve gotten to know this city pretty well, and while there are things I don’t like about it, it is my home. I try to tell myself that this house will feel like that, too, someday.
* Footnote about this year's Oscars: the ceremony just happened two weeks ago, and it was kinda a dud. Sara and I didn't make a big deal of watching it like we usually do, and even though she reminded me about them the day before, I completely forgot about them while doing yardwork and missed the beginning of the show! (The Oscars are practically religious in this house, and I haven't missed any part of them since I had to way back here for work.) Anyway, I did enjoy Angela Bassett's introduction of the en memoriam section. I think the only movies I saw this year were The Trial of the Chicago 7, My Octopus Teacher (which was a little too weird even for me), and A Love Song for Latasha Harlins (watched on Netflix after I had to leave work sick from my second Covid-19 shot).
Two years. I have seen the lanai covered with pollen in the spring, leaves in the fall, and snow and ice in the winter. Twice I have walked around the house closing the crawlspace vents in the fall and opening them in the spring. Twice Sara and I have put the cover over the air-conditioning unit in the fall and taken it off in the spring. Twice I have seen the white narcissus, the daffodils, and the Bradford pear blooming in the backyard. Twice I have made charoset in the kitchen for Passover. Twice Sara and I have watched The Sound of Music on TV before Christmas (although we missed most of it last year) and the Oscars. * I have changed air filters, scrubbed bathrooms, dusted floorboards, oiled squeaky hinges, and thawed out a frozen faucet. I have trimmed bushes, raked leaves, mowed grass, sawed down bamboo stumps, dug up bamboo roots, ripped out poison ivy, rearranged rocks, and much more in the backyard.
And I still too often feel like I’m not doing a good job at any of it. I still too often resent this house for being a burden. I love having Athena and her kids over, but I’ve never willingly invited over anyone else because I hate it so much that I don’t really understand why anyone would want to spend time here. How much longer will it take before I feel like I know what I’m doing? Right now, I’m trying to remind myself of how strange living in this city felt when we first moved here, and how much I missed my hometown. Now, I think I’ve gotten to know this city pretty well, and while there are things I don’t like about it, it is my home. I try to tell myself that this house will feel like that, too, someday.
* Footnote about this year's Oscars: the ceremony just happened two weeks ago, and it was kinda a dud. Sara and I didn't make a big deal of watching it like we usually do, and even though she reminded me about them the day before, I completely forgot about them while doing yardwork and missed the beginning of the show! (The Oscars are practically religious in this house, and I haven't missed any part of them since I had to way back here for work.) Anyway, I did enjoy Angela Bassett's introduction of the en memoriam section. I think the only movies I saw this year were The Trial of the Chicago 7, My Octopus Teacher (which was a little too weird even for me), and A Love Song for Latasha Harlins (watched on Netflix after I had to leave work sick from my second Covid-19 shot).