Friday, August 8, 2014
Lately inconsistency has been our consistency. I wonder what it is like for nomads. Well, I am sure actual nomads that are forced to live that way don't have very happy lives. Or maybe they do, and they just cling to the most important things around them, probably their families. I am probably spoiled by being comforted by all my things and the feeling I get when everything is set up and feels like home.
I can easily fall into cliches and cheesy writing. But its because so many of those cliches are just so true. I always talk to death the idea of bringing a new thought to a cliche. But the truth is its a cliche because enough people have probably realized its true. Almost just like a catchy truth. But lets all just embrace it for a moment. Home is where the heart is.
We have this saying on a little fabric heart magnet on our fridge. It is pretty ugly. I love it. My cousin and best friend had it on their townhouse fridge when they moved in a couple of years ago. I asked if I could take it. Because that little saying just makes me happy. Even if I become that little sentimental seventy year old woman when I stick in on my own fridge every time we move.
Its late and my mind is trying to think too hard. I want to bring something new. But I also just want to write that today was so happy. There is this image in my mind of our old life in Arkansas. It is when we were living in our little pale blue townhouse in downtown Siloam Springs. In this memory Blanche is 18 months old. She is the perfect age. She still nurses for comfort, and is so much of a baby still. I am almost pregnant with Rosemary. Andrew works at the cafe downtown. Blanche and I walk to get him from work each afternoon. Its spring and our dogwood in the backyard is in full bloom, and I hang my cloth diapers off a rope tied to it. Blanche wears her hair in pigtails and has on overalls. Andrew roasts coffee out in the front yard or works in his garden in the back. We bake together. Eat together. Laugh and play together.
This image is what I have been holding onto for the last year. I have come to realize (and partly knew as it was happening) that these are all the happy times squished into one giant memory. They are several instagram pictures taken at the perfect moment. I talk about these times to Andrew and I say I know we never had any money when we lived in Arkansas. Or health care. Or a real career. I knew we would never stay there forever. I wanted more adventure. But there was just something I always felt like I was missing just a bit of and I could never put my finger on what it really was.
And then today, I felt like that feeling was here. It was back again. Not to say there was never a happy moment in our old apartment. I just think maybe I had been tired for a very long time. We moved to Austin when I was pregnant. Andrew had a part time job and then two. Then he advanced quickly in his career as we brought home a second baby. I tandem nursed. I carried sleeping children across the parking lot and up the stairs by myself at the same time. I missed being outside.
So much of the beginning of this year was survival. And then by the time things felt more calm, we were packing boxes and moving. And looking and not finding. And then finding. And then staying in Georgetown. And then moving. And then family coming. And then traveling across the country. And then coming home and doing laundry. And then... we were home. All of the sudden the long list of happy yet tiring tasks had started to shorten. And I realized today that I wasn't that tired anymore.
Our trip to Arkansas was full of friends and memories relived. Andrew and I felt like we jumped back in time a bit. On our way home I told Andrew that I didn't really feel like I had a home. Missouri doesn't feel like home anymore and neither did Arkansas. And Texas is still so new. But something happened today when Andrew was off of work and for the first time in so long, we were all just here together.
Home is where the heart is. As cheesy as it may be. The longer version is that home is where I nurse my babies to sleep. Home is where I hang my cloth diapers in the sun (even if they tell me to take them down...) Home is where Andrew roasts coffee and Blanche learns to play new games. Home is where we eat and where we sleep. Where we make memories and write down the mundane stories of the day. As humans I think we all crave something familiar. I know any home I ever have is so much more than many. But tiredness can often blind you from what you really have. It can make people you love seem distant or happiness seem foggy. Maybe I am just refreshed and excited for the new of this place.
Today was so happy. We did projects around the house and spent time together with no real obligations. Rosemary had her first popsicle, and Blanche who hasn't wanted her picture taken all of the sudden wanted me to take hers too. I have other pictures to share but I really just wanted to write my thoughts out before they left. There is something so freeing about sitting and just letting my fingers fly uninterrupted. I know my words aren't always wise or maybe even correct, but I am still going to tell my own story. Andrew told me the other day that I just need to write. And then leave it. Its out there. Its me. I always talk about what this blog is for. Sometimes I think its mostly that my brain is a big pile of laundry and I am just sorting through it all putting my thoughts in different piles. Sorting by texture or color. I always sort of love doing laundry. I act like it is such a task, but deep down I love to take a big huge pile of mess and make it clean and neat and ready once again.