Good morning, welcome home

August 7, 2006

We made it. And just in time for birthday cake, too! We pulled up at the mountain house around 5:30pm. Within two minutes of arriving, our scrub jays were on the deck demanding peanuts. It was cool and crisp and a perfect welcome home.

Saturday night, we blearily drove in to town for dinner, thinking it would be nice not to cook. I was exhausted and not hungry in the least (see birthday cake, above) but I wasn’t staying home alone and I thought a drink might be nice.

Whew. Was I wrong. Last time Josh and I drove across the country, I collapsed in tears right as we walked in the door. This time, it took me a couple of hours of jittery exhaustion, before I started to sniffle at dinner. Josh said “I was wondering when you were going to freak out” and while I briefly contemplated dousing him with my untouched vodka soda for being so damned smug, I decided it was much funnier that he was right, and instead moaned dramatically for about twenty minutes then got bored and giddy and fell asleep early. Josh was very patient, especially considering he did all the driving and was therefore more entitled to the Saturday night freakout.

Yesterday, that is to say, Sunday, we did nothing. And liked it. The cat dozed on a wingback chair, Josh dozed on the sofa, and I dozed on the living room floor surrounded by stacks of magazines. We made plans for unloading the truck, patted ourselves on the back for such good planning, then had a fantastic dinner out on the deck. Josh made fricassee. I made salad and got stuck with the dishes. And it felt good, all this being at home together. Making this our home. It feels decadent and wonderful and good, and it’s why I’ll post an entry here that’s just a list of mundanity but right now, after all of the strange movements of the last few weeks, this feels so good. Sitting out on the deck and drinking wine, not quite believing it’s real yet.

Today I woke slowly, watching the light filter in through the curtains, tucked in with Josh and peaceful. The cat squeezed himself in next to us and purred for a half hour, and the details seemed sharper and more tangible than any moments in these weeks since my mother died. I realize now how little I remember from those first two weeks, even though it’s only been three. Even the first couple of days of being in Kansas City are vague and distant. I wonder if a few weeks from now I’ll be having trouble remembering today, so I’m writing it down. Today I had a perfectly normal morning, full of little blissfulnesses and comforts. I got up before Josh and took a bath, then made tea and had my favourite breakfast of yogurt, muesli and honey. My cat followed me all over. The house is cool and warmly lighted and I can hear the scrub jays calling for breakfast. It is not quite ten am, and I have already done a little work and called about a storage unit. The day is humming along and I am moving with it.

3 thoughts on “Good morning, welcome home”

  1. o, yes! Long live the marvellously mundane bits of happiness. I am terribly, terribly envious of your cool weather. And the scrub jays, but of course!

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