As of today, we have two houses (and no jobs). But at least in just a few weeks we will no longer own the house we’re living in. And the people living in the one we own no longer own it.
Once, this week, when I went up to feed our pet tortoise, I found him on his back with his little legs flailing. That’s about how I feel. Too many forms and financial things and signatures and boxes and problems at work and Peter has insomnia and I can’t even remember what our new house looks like very well and in a few weeks we’ll be there!
I hope, after we move, there will be some moment when I’m alone in that new house (well, I can always get up at 3:30am I suppose). And I can just wander around in it and feel out this new shell for our existence. I think that we grow into places, sort of take on the shape of them in our minds. Like a tortoise. Except our shells stay in one place and we come and go from them. How will it feel? Which window will be my favorite one to look out of? What birds sing nearby? (What neighbors play their radios too loudly?). So many things we don’t know.
Will my difficult student sock anyone in the face today and send them to urgent care like she did on Tuesday? So many things to wonder about.
But the poppies are blooming now, near our front door (which will soon not be our front door technically, but someone else’s). And that’s very nice.