I moved into my permanent home on my 51st birthday a week ago Friday. Things are resolving with lightening speed these days. I have a permanent place to live, my land is completely cleared and almost ready to sell (one thing left to resolve), Larry's estate is almost settled, I've ultimately decided not to sue my former township. So things that were making my blood boil are 99 percent complete. Now we're down to petty annoyances because I'm still tired and grouchy from the ordeal of the fire and loosing both Larry and Montana. Most of my to do list was comprised of things that I had to do and not things I wanted to do but that is slowly shifting and changing. I sat in my new backyard with a cup of coffee this am and listened to the soft zee zee of cedar waxwings, watched a Carolina wren climb down my Rose of Sharon tree. Said hello to a pair of cardinals as they quickly landed on my fence, discovered me and moved on, listened to the sleepy chirp of crickets and neighbors going about their Saturday morning routine. Oakley barked and pointed at some squirrels performing acrobatics from the tall pine trees beyond my property and sniffed the air; happy to have a yard again.
Inside, the house has tons of character and all who see it say, "yes, this house feels like you". And so not only do I have my faithful companion of a dog to love, a dog who probably saved my sanity, but I have a new home to love and play house in, decorate and clean and cook.. This is the type of home where, with so many vestiges of the past, it just feels right to have bacon, eggs and toast for breakfast and iced tea in a earthenware pitcher and a pie to share when friends come.
Yes, there is finally a place to rest and recover.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
The Moment
Anyone who has been through a big loss will relate to what I am about to say. There is a moment in time after a tragedy where you realize that things are going to be ok either because you have a day which was entirely good or because there is a moment where you laugh your ass off. I can say this because I've been through four tragedies. Today, that moment came.
I have been staying over at my newly purchased home more and more. It is not quite ready as I've needed a lot of repair work before I could get insurance (don't ask). Purchasing the house, clearing my land from the fire, the permits, the multiple phone calls...it's been grueling. My former township treats me like the anti-Christ so when a neighbor in my new neighborhood said she wanted to talk to me, I wondered what I had done wrong...turns out she wanted to invite me to her 89th birthday party. Mrs. Johnson or "Mother" Johnson or as I found out today, Catherine Precious Johnson is a petite African American woman with a love for plastic flowers, nicknacks, candy and all things Christian. Usually the party is held on my tiny one block street. Today it was catered at a hall. I was the first neighbor to arrive but soon found the other neighbors joining me as we made polite chit chat, listened to speakers profess their love for Mrs. Johnson and ate soul food.
The event was pretty much how someone summed it up for me, not exciting, not boring. That all changed on a dime when Mrs Johnson spoke about God granting her the wish to play piano. According to her, God had given her the ability through prayer alone. I thought it was cute when, with childlike enthusiasm and innocence, she asked if we wanted to hear her play. The sound that came out of those 89 year old hands was not to be believed. It was completely bizarre and dissonant, but Mrs. Johnson played us three songs with fervor while my future neighbors and I were not able to speak or look each other in the eye. This was straight out of Saturday Night Live. When finished, someone finally said to me, "Welcome to the neighborhood" where I had to further stifle my laughter.
As soon as I got out of the hall and into my car. I laughed for at least 10 minutes straight with tears streaming down my face and belly hurting.
Yes, I think things are going to get better from now on.
I have been staying over at my newly purchased home more and more. It is not quite ready as I've needed a lot of repair work before I could get insurance (don't ask). Purchasing the house, clearing my land from the fire, the permits, the multiple phone calls...it's been grueling. My former township treats me like the anti-Christ so when a neighbor in my new neighborhood said she wanted to talk to me, I wondered what I had done wrong...turns out she wanted to invite me to her 89th birthday party. Mrs. Johnson or "Mother" Johnson or as I found out today, Catherine Precious Johnson is a petite African American woman with a love for plastic flowers, nicknacks, candy and all things Christian. Usually the party is held on my tiny one block street. Today it was catered at a hall. I was the first neighbor to arrive but soon found the other neighbors joining me as we made polite chit chat, listened to speakers profess their love for Mrs. Johnson and ate soul food.
The event was pretty much how someone summed it up for me, not exciting, not boring. That all changed on a dime when Mrs Johnson spoke about God granting her the wish to play piano. According to her, God had given her the ability through prayer alone. I thought it was cute when, with childlike enthusiasm and innocence, she asked if we wanted to hear her play. The sound that came out of those 89 year old hands was not to be believed. It was completely bizarre and dissonant, but Mrs. Johnson played us three songs with fervor while my future neighbors and I were not able to speak or look each other in the eye. This was straight out of Saturday Night Live. When finished, someone finally said to me, "Welcome to the neighborhood" where I had to further stifle my laughter.
As soon as I got out of the hall and into my car. I laughed for at least 10 minutes straight with tears streaming down my face and belly hurting.
Yes, I think things are going to get better from now on.
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