A New Life Begins to Show Itself
I have given copies of my house keys to the two people (both of whom I know quite well) working on my house and to my best friend in town. I will be in and out during the next month, dividing my time between keeping things rolling in the new place, and packing up the old place.
At one point I was in the living room and when I walked into the kitchen, my friend was standing at the door, just there to see how I was doing. An old neighbor of my parents' stopped in. My cousin came over for coffee. These are the elements of everyday life for most people, and they never happen for the deep urban dweller. The "drop overs", between grocery shopping and fixing dinner -- the "stop-bys" for a cup of friendly coffee.
I love these rural civilities, and immediately became awash in memories of my mother, wiping her hands on her apron (or her dungarees as she called her jeans) on her way to the door to let in Avie, the neighbor, for his spontaneous and welcomed mooch of conversation and coffee. That was back in the day when people were part of the flow of each other's lives. ..when getting together did not have to be a production event complete with Martha Stewart place settings.
There were times when folks stopped by because they just made too many brownies, so here -- have some. Or because the garden had yielded way too many tomatoes, so here -- have some. Or the phone rang because someone was on their way to the store and would have to drive by your place, so did you need anything? Or you wanted company, so hey -- want to help me pick out paint?
Maybe this kind of life sounds familiar to those of you in less urban settings than I. I have lived either in Manhattan or within stone's throw of it for 25 years. Moving to semi-rural, college town-ish, educated, blue-collar, democrat-voting, family farming western Massachusetts is like dipping back in time for me. I love it.
I cannot begin to say how odd it feels to own a home. I can say that I sat in my kitchen, made myself a cup of coffee, sat down, looked out the back window into the yard to see black squirrels gamboling about the huge pine trees and thought -- "What a pretty yard this is."
I paused and started to cry as I thought -- "and it is mine."
Life. Amazing stuff.
At one point I was in the living room and when I walked into the kitchen, my friend was standing at the door, just there to see how I was doing. An old neighbor of my parents' stopped in. My cousin came over for coffee. These are the elements of everyday life for most people, and they never happen for the deep urban dweller. The "drop overs", between grocery shopping and fixing dinner -- the "stop-bys" for a cup of friendly coffee.
I love these rural civilities, and immediately became awash in memories of my mother, wiping her hands on her apron (or her dungarees as she called her jeans) on her way to the door to let in Avie, the neighbor, for his spontaneous and welcomed mooch of conversation and coffee. That was back in the day when people were part of the flow of each other's lives. ..when getting together did not have to be a production event complete with Martha Stewart place settings.
There were times when folks stopped by because they just made too many brownies, so here -- have some. Or because the garden had yielded way too many tomatoes, so here -- have some. Or the phone rang because someone was on their way to the store and would have to drive by your place, so did you need anything? Or you wanted company, so hey -- want to help me pick out paint?
Maybe this kind of life sounds familiar to those of you in less urban settings than I. I have lived either in Manhattan or within stone's throw of it for 25 years. Moving to semi-rural, college town-ish, educated, blue-collar, democrat-voting, family farming western Massachusetts is like dipping back in time for me. I love it.
I cannot begin to say how odd it feels to own a home. I can say that I sat in my kitchen, made myself a cup of coffee, sat down, looked out the back window into the yard to see black squirrels gamboling about the huge pine trees and thought -- "What a pretty yard this is."
I paused and started to cry as I thought -- "and it is mine."
Life. Amazing stuff.
posted by Mata H at Sunday, November 18, 2007
7 Comments:
I'm so glad you are "settled". I know that is a huge laugh right now. But it will happen. Someday. tee hee.
Prayers ascending that the house and the neighborhood are far better than you had hoped.
Hugs.
Shel
Wish I lived close enough to just "drop in for coffee" and help you to unpack. I am so very happy for you dear friend!
congratulations on your new home! I wandered here from Blogher, and enjoyed reading your saga of homebuying. I've been living in the deep-deep country of West Virginia on 80 acres for over 30 years, so I'll be interested in reading your further adventures as you discover you home. Can't wait to see what kind of dog you get!
Happy Thanksgiving - you have MUCH to be thankful for! I am thankful for YOU!!!
I'm so glad to hear that all has gone well, and that you are going to settle into a context that feels good. I'm a fan of the semi-rural life.
I'm a bit far to drop in, but I look forward to hanging out.
Sounds lovely. And oh, those were the days, when friends or neighbors stopped by for coffee and a chat. Sounds like your new life in your new home is off to a good start!
We do coffee where I live all the time and it's lovely. Also beer and tea at the appropriate times of day. 'Course, there are about 65 of us to pick and choose from. I kind of like it.
Nora
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