It has been warm and muggy these days but never the less autumn is here. The leaves are changing color and falling. The other day my man stood at the window watching yellow leaves from a poplar float down to the grass. “Don’t fall, don’t fall,” he pleaded. He hates raking. In fact he hates all things associated with home maintenance and wistfully expressed how much he misses the tiny apartment we used to live in. “You mean the one where our children slept in the kitchen?” “Yup, that’s the one.” It seems like another life now. We have been in our home here in coastal New England for a little over 3 years. Long enough for the place we were before to have faded firmly into the background. When I move (and I have moved many times) I do a lot of looking back. It is as if one foot is still in the place I left and continues to be there for quite some time. Eventually both feet come together in my present life, but this period is usually brief because inevitably one foot starts to inch forward again already eager for the next destination.
These days I feel pretty firmly planted here: in our home, in our community, in my family, in my life. Have I grown, broken a life long habit- am I learning how to be an adult and deal? Maybe. I still get the itch- usually when I hear of someone else’s adventures or when we travel (or when I look at old pictures- I had a major bout of nostalgia digging up the pictures above.) I am notorious for walking out of the airport at a new destination taking a deep breath, looking around and gleefully exclaiming, ” let’s live here.” What I need to remember is- I said that once about the place we now live.
This summer we started eating dinner together as a family. For years I fed our kids first and then my husband and I would enjoy a peaceful meal together. During my man’s six week recovery we got into the routine of eating dinner together. At first, I hated it- and sometimes I still do. I sit in between my children -while my man has a child free zone at the head of the table. I am constantly interrupted while I eat not to mention poked and prodded by greasy dinner dripping hands. Some nights that is all I can focus on and dinner often includes me swatting at my head as if being attacked by bees while yelling, “stop touching me!” But I have also started to enjoy it. I like who our children are and am enjoying getting to know them over dinner.I hope we can keep it up when my man returns to work.
Last night we went out to dinner and then to the local library’s family movie night. We saw a few families that we know and for some of them it was the first time they had seen my husband since his original diagnosis ( he is a bit of a homebody.) It felt a bit like we were presenting a new and improved version of my guy, “cancer free.” In fact at times it feels like our entire family is new and improved. At least these days it does.
And speaking of new and improved- I changed the look of this page (obviously), and I will probably do it again. Sometimes you just need a change.