Suburbia - Moving Part 2

Written May 21, 2013

When I was growing up I knew that we didn't have a lot of money.  What we had didn't compare to most of my classmates.  My maternal aunt, however, appeared to have married well.  The few memories I have of her house in Mount Juliet led me to believe that she and her family much be rich.  Upon hindsight as an adult, I realize that they were actually middle class.  Still better off finanically than my family but not the fairy tale wealth I thought I was seeing.

I remember as a child being in her house and wanting to live in a beautiful place just like it.  It was a split story ranch with a garage and rec room in the basement.  The main level was the kitchen, livingroom, den, etc.  The bedrooms were upstairs.  Most amazing to me was that there was more than one bathroom!  It was just another ordinary house in a suburban neighborhood - nicely decorated and uncluttered.  But to me, it seemed "real fancy".  My step-father acted like they were putting on airs to have a house like that.  Truth is, they were just a normal middle class family in the 1970's.  When I was a child, this was a major dream to aspire to.

While unpacking (and,yes, I am STILL unpacking boxes) I looked around and realized, much to my surprize, that I had actually, truly reached that childhood dream.  I live in a modified one story ranch on a cul du sac in the middle of this town's suburbs.  I live in middle class suburbia!  It struck me one day as I drove into the entrance of our community on trash day.  All the cans were out at the curb in roughly the same position.  All the houses in their rows conformed to the home owners' association rules, keeping their grass mowed and their yards uncluttered.  I was awestruck, unable to fantom how this had happened to me.  How had  I come all this way?  Yet it still didn't feel as though I had "arrived" anywhere.

It is odd to look back at the dreams of my childhood - a good middle class home, a safe environment, a loving family, a career in story telling/creating - and see what I've actually accomplished.  As a teenager, college student, and young wife/mother my dreams had shifted constantly and had continually seemed out of reach.  But those dreams formed in childhood play (with dolls, pretend and dress-up, early stories) they took root and are now beginning to bloom.




Landscaping leading to my front porch. Beautiful!


I'm not rich.  I don't live in a Victorian mansion.  I'm average middle class with a mortgage and debts.  It doesn't feel as special as it did when I was an awestruck child.  It does feel comfortable and I certainly want to get used to it.  Welcome to my enchanted suburbia where I hope to make the rest of my childhood dreams come true!

Moving - Part 1 - April 22, 2013

Moving anywhere is always a challenge.  Moving to another state is even more challenging.  Luckily for us, my husband's new employer is paying for movers to help us.  Of course, you have to keep an eye on them.  Otherwise things don't get packed that should or things that shouldn't be packed (like trash or recycling) will be.  There's also the issue of not knowing what is packed where.  Sure they label the boxes "kitchen" but in which of those two dozen boxes is the tea maker or the spices?

I have been sleeping on an air mattress since Thursday.  My bed should arrive today.  It will be nice to sleep in my own bed if I can find it amongst the boxes piled near ceiling height.  I know it will take a while to sort through and place everything.  Even after our massive three day yardsale before the move, we realized once we got here that there are still some things we'll have to let go of.  I still have records/files from twenty-five years ago when we were first married.  So I need to sort through all of those files and shred them to make more room.  My books (a bibliopile is a mover's nightmare) and my craft materials will still be a problem.  There is so much of both!  I am hoping for more time and energy for crafting (after placing everything into a more house-shaped form) but I seriously still need to let more things go.  I don't want to be a prisoner to objects.

Which leads me to my latest concern.  Since the week before last my husband has been calling me a "hoarder".  I don't like the label.  It makes one think of people living with trash piled to the ceiling with only a small path to walk and a dead cat misplaced somewhere in the mix.  While I'm not to that level, I do realize that I sometimes hang on to things because "I might need it later".  I'm not sure where this comes from.  I know when I was growing up I felt like I didn't fit in because I didn't have the same things as everyone else (homemade clothes  in the last 1970's/early 1980's was NOT as acceptable as you might think) but  that really doesn't seem to be the root of the problem.

I think the problem may stem from my step-father.  He lived through the Great Depression as a child and was a veteran of WWII.  He and his siblings had to literally scrape together enough for the eleven of them and their mother to eat during the depression.  EVERYONE had to do their part and NOTHING went to waste.  Even bits of twine were tied together to be reused.  It was this mentality that most likely got him started with collecting scrap metal to take to the metal recycling yards (junkyards) in Nashville.

Though this mentality of leaving nothing to waste is useful, it can lead to issues, like mine, of not wating to let go of things.  I did let go of a number of things at the yard sale.  Like the music box that I've had for at least twenty years with the intent to fix it.  I never got around to it.  Or  the old cardboard framed print of ballerinas I bought as a child at a Five and dime in Fairview, Tennessee.  I was no longer displaying it.  I kept it why?  Because I had once wanted to be as graceful as a ballerina instead of the unbalanced clutz I've finally learned to accept?  All it reminded me of now is that we could never afford lessons like my peers for ballet or piano or Girl Scouts or anything else as a child.  There was only time for work so that we could make more money for the family.

It will hurt to let go of somethings.  Unfinished projects and unread books make me feel like a failure somehow.  But letting go of them will be freeing as I will have more time and energy and mental focus for new projects that are more appropriate for where I am now in my life.  Frankly, I really just need to accept my physical limitations.  I can only do so much.  There is only so much time in the day.  As my new life here in Indiana takes shape, I hope that it will be healthier both physically and emotionally as well as more creative and productive.  Wish me luck!

The ballerina print I bought at the Five and Dime in the late 1970's.  Just as the yardsale closed it started to rain. I took this photo and thought it looked as beautiful as it did when I feel in love with it as a small child.  The rain gave it a look of having tear stains.  The universe crying with happiness that I finally learned to let go of that which is no longer moving me forward?

Rain

A dark and rainy day in East Tennessee.

Rain drops drip

and hit

against metal awnings

as trees sway

pawing

against the building

lending

a sleepy feeling

with each drop

that drips

and slips

into puddles and pools

calming and soothing

and cooling

a worried mind

letting go of

the hurries and flurries

of to-do lists

and wish

for a warm bed

to snuggle

a muddled mind

to cuddle

sounds of each drop

that hits

with no worries 

to miss

Searching, Dreaming, Finding

This 4900 square foot Victorian beauty is truly a sight to behold and I enjoyed running through it!

Odors from strange houses cling to my clothes, filling my nostrils with memories both pleasant and repulsive. I sneeze.  My eyes begin to water.  My head begins to ache.  My mind begins to wander, back through each house I've seen.  I am left wishing that, in a Frankenstienian way I could combine different elements from each of the houses.  The wood floors from here.  The carpet from there.  The appliances from four houses back.  The woodwork from the favorite house.  The mast suite in the dream house.  A combination of all the office spaces.  The price of the first house.

My head swims with indecision.  Arguments fire back and forth inside my mind and amongst my company.  A decision must be made.  And I know that with whatever decision is made there will be regrets for the ones passed over.  When the decision is made, I will wash my clothes free of all these strange fragrances as I will try to cleanse my mind of all the other choices left behind and focus on all the ones to come.

This was stenciled in the master bedroom of the above Victorian home which was in foreclosure.

Searching for Home

Rain on my face

as I turn to the sky

eyes smile as

I shout

"Hallelujah!"

My kingdom has come

and I would dwell here

the rest of my days

New Release!

I have released my new collection of poems on Amazon.  BLOOM TO FADE speaks of love from its inception to the bitter end to survival. These poems span a lifetime.  Some are personal.  Some are written from the point of view of people I've known or characters in stories I've written.  Here's the first poem in BLOOM TO FADE:

Duas medietates occursum
Factus totum
Et consumet unum alius
numen avertat

 Two halves meet

Become a whole

And destroy one another

God forbid

That first moment when your eyes meet and you feel all the feels and you want to melt.  It's all in there.  So order it from Amazon and give it a read!

RELIEF

How I crave to be held

By a lover’s gaze

Held by his eyes

Unable to escape

As his lips approach

And his arms embrace

The world is heavy

And I crave relief

A drought of

Passionate haze

To rise above

The drowning waves

Heated and misty

My eyes steam like his

Burning with visions

Of things forbidden

Still we stay locked

A swagger in time

Forgotten for a moment

The world left behind

Rebirth

The phoenix begins

to write her lists

kindling for her 

funeral nest

She has no fear

of change to come

endings and beginnings

are always one

moving closer 

to days of fire

to be reborn from

the funeral pyre

What is this new thing

that she will be

from the ashes

she'll fly free