Ah, we are home.
Home to my funky old house where my chickens are, my cats, my heart.
I'm all unpacked and have laundry going and Mr. Moon has gone off to a basketball game and I am at peace. It was a beautiful and perfect get-away in Apalachicola but it's nice to be home again. Last night it stormed and rained and the place we were staying is built right over the water and we could hear the whitecapping waves gulping beneath our room as the rain pounded above us which was really pretty awesome. After our breakfast this morning we drove around Apalach as we do, this time looking for some possible place to rent to stay in part time while we're building the house. Apalachicola has a long and rich history and there are beautiful old mansions and equally beautiful tiny old shotgun shacks, each with their own particular charm. But nothing at all seems to be for rent. It's a town of Real Big Money and not much money at all. This fact bothers me sometimes. I shop in places where the price for one blouse would probably pay someone's rent for a week. This disparity is troubling and not unlike being in Mexico, to tell you the truth. But it is what it is and I've seen so much change and so much more prosperity in the thirty years I've been visiting down there. It's lovely to see old buildings restored and given new life, the new parks that have been built, the lovely, thriving community garden. The number of people in town this weekend amazed me and all of them were spending money hand over fist at the cook-off, at the new brewery in town, at the restaurants and probably the shops although I did almost no shopping. I went in to two different places I love and one was having no sales and was too crowded and the other requires concentration and I wanted to be with my husband more than I wanted to be looking at stuff I wasn't going to buy anyway.
So this weekend we ate some excellent food, we rested, we laughed, we had some much-needed time alone together.
And it was good.
A funny thing happened on Saturday morning. We ran into some people we used to know back in the old, old days and as we were catching up, the wife asked Mr. Moon if he had retired. He said that no, he had not and then she asked me if I had retired.
I had no idea what to say! But I laughed. And then I said that no, and I probably never would, seeing as how I just keep getting more and more grandchildren. How does a housewife and mother retire? Is that even possible? I guess if we move to Apalachicola, at least part time, that will be a sort of retirement although I'm pretty sure I'll still be cooking and cleaning and trying to grow something in the dirt and also, Owen has already picked out his room in the house plans. But I do wonder what exactly it is I'll be doing down there. Sometimes I wish I'd never found this house which I have settled into with such joy. These trees, these pretty chickens, this peace. The camellias I've planted, my garden which is how I measure the seasons according to what is being picked and by what it's time to plant. These porches and rooms which slant and tilt due to shifting of the earth beneath it. The comfort I find here, the shelter it offers me.
Mr. Moon has said that we do not have to sell this house of mine here. That we can keep it. He even jokes that he's building himself a house in Apalachicola where hopefully, I will come and visit him. Although he loves this house and our life here, he is not as wedded to it as I am.
Sometimes I think that I am as house-monogamous as I am man-monogamous. How can one make a life, a full and complete life spent between two places? The things I love here are not things that I can pick up and leave for days or weeks at a time. Not chickens or cats or yard, and houses themselves grow lonely if not fully lived in. Sometimes I think it would be better if, when we build that house, I just cut myself off from Lloyd entirely and pledged myself to living on the Apalachicola Bay.
Am I being ridiculous?
Well, I am pondering these things
just as August appeared to be pondering when I took his picture on Friday when his mama was getting her hair cut.
And of course, I haven't even mentioned how I can possibly leave my children and grandchildren to live an hour and a half away although they are all for us having a house in Apalachicola. And it would be so much fun for us all to be together there, celebrating this and that with a park right down the road from either side of us, the river to go down in Boppy's boat, the coffee shops to visit, the bookstore, the restaurants and bars. I can imagine the grandkids coming to stay with us, fishing off the dock with their grandfather, having a place to come and stay which is filled with sky and water and history and slower moving ways.
Let's face it- it's all an embarrassment of riches and the bottom line is this- that house is my husband's dream and his goal and I would be a sad and sorry wife if I denied him the pleasure of fulfilling it.
Where he is is my home. I pledged my troth to him all of those years ago and I meant it.
And hell- if I get bored, I can always get a job tending bar.
Or maybe Tamara would hire me to work at the coffee shop or perhaps I could bake goodies for her to sell or maybe the bookstore lady would employee me very part time to work in her beautiful little store.
I am not dead yet, nor do I plan to be so any time soon. And as such, I should be open to change.
All right. I'll shut up now. I think I'm going to make a little pasta with fresh tomatoes and capers and mushrooms. And finish the laundry and get in my cozy bed and read. And then probably to sleep and dream of houses and chickens.
I am so lucky and I know it.
Here comes the train. If Gibson were here, he would find me and say, "The train, Mer! Hold me!"
And I would. By now, it is our sweet little joke.
And I will see that boy tomorrow along with his brother and his sister and perhaps his cousin.
Take care, y'all.
Please, tell Mr. Moon that you are not moving. Period. End of story. Fuck it! No move.ReplyDelete
I say build the house. The adventure of that is worthwhile. It can be a family getaway. You don't have to move there full time unless you truly want to.ReplyDelete
Is it wired that I got this feeling that if you moved I would miss you as if it would impact the blog? Maybe less grand babies? I don't know it was a really personal feeling of missing you??? Strange.ReplyDelete
I'm deeply attached to the old house of ours. It was my paternal grandparents and the house seems to be a part of me. I too think of moving and how I would feel leaving this old home.ReplyDelete
I think you should go on and move to Apalachicola, and Sophie, Oliver and I will rent your house in Lloyd from you.ReplyDelete
I'm glad you clarified that you don't need to sell in Lloyd. I wondered what was supposed to happen there. I think you're taking the right approach in being open to the change and seeing how it unfolds -- as Angella says, you don't need to move full time unless you want to. And who knows? You may LOVE Apalachicola and WANT to move. You never know!ReplyDelete
I hear ya. the city house was my house. I found it, I bought it, I loved it. I married in that house, raised my kids in that house. I was loathe to leave that house, that yard, all the creatures I nurtured for 40 years. it was hard and painful pulling up those deep roots. it took 7 years. so many of the same issues. leaving my kids and grandkids in the city and me an hour away. but the girl and her husband are following us out here. they bought land, are improving it, are going to build a cabin and when the last one graduates high school, they will move out here.ReplyDelete
we probably didn't have to sell it but it was falling apart, ancient wiring, ancient plumbing, and termites. and the land had become stupidly valuable with high and rising property taxes and no money to fix it up. I still miss that house but I do not miss living in the city. and this house is a good house.
It doesn't matter how many good things we have, the heart wants what it wants. I understand that.ReplyDelete
Selfish me doesn't want you to move because I will miss your chickens and cats but most of all your grandbabies.ReplyDelete
August! Those eyes!
A vacation home, right? You can be like snow birds without the snow? And love Lloyd all the more for how you'll miss it? I don't know. But like you said, the options are all good ones.ReplyDelete
Ms. Peace, Thyme- Oh, I simply can't. I love him too much. We will figure it out. And it will be fine. And think of all the new things I'll have to write about!ReplyDelete
Angella- Yes. We will build it and it will be a good adventure and it will be a good kick in the ass for me. I seriously am becoming Miss Havisham. (Not that there's anything wrong with that. Right?)
Joanne- It might be the best thing to ever happen to the blog. A whole new cast of characters!
And their dogs! And golf carts! Etc.
Leisha- "Home" is more than just a word, isn't it? I hear you, honey. I do.
Elizabeth- Now THERE'S an idea! I'm liking it!
Steve Reed- That thought has crossed my mind. Who knows? Anything could happen.
Ellen Abbott- It is good to hear that story. Thank you. Change is so hard but it can be good.
jenny_o- Yes m'am. This is so true.
But sometimes the heart needs to expand?
Birdie- I have a feeling there will always be grandbabies.
Ms. Vesuvius- Exactly. We can come and we can go. All good options.
Change is hard.ReplyDelete
You will love the sound of the waves and having a boat dock. I just know it.
I think you will end up seeing your babies about as much anyway. You couldn't stay away. I can feel the love to here and I'm halfway across the world!ReplyDelete