Every once in a while, like a smack in the face, I find myself once again incredibly lonely. Walking around the house doing nothing but crying lonely. And resenting the move which forced separation from my best friends and all the comforts of living in a town that was about as familiar to me as the back of my hand.
Here I sit in a room set up so much like the front room in our old house it's amazing with a cat on my lap and everything but I can't call anyone because you're all sound asleep and, even if you were awake, what good would it do? It's not like you can come over. And it's Theo on my lap, not Mabel. (We love Theo but he's not Mabel).
A heart divided. Guess I better get used to it. I keep trying. I do.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Seasons of Life
525,600 minutes, 525,600 moments so dear. 525,600 minutes - how do you measure, measure a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee. In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife. In 525,600 minutes - how do you measure a year in the life? How about love? Measure in love. Seasons of love.
Or so the song goes.
I measure this year in goodbyes said, miles travelled, buckets of tears cried, adjustments made, houses stayed in, houses looked at, house purchased, school attending, a spring birthday that used to be in the autumn, a summertime Christmas, new friends made, a new family to count on, visits planned and cancelled, a successful visit and the hope of more; always the hope of more. (Sadly that's all it is, a hope.)
I'm still getting used to my one and only son having an accent slightly different than mine. Endearing sometimes, nothing but annoying at others (when I'm cranky). I want him to stay like me! I wish we had screens in our windows so the flies stay where they belong -- outside. Yeah, yeah, yeah be glad I'm not in Australia... I know.
How else do I measure a year in my life? This year in my life particularly? Love. It's true. So much love. And, actually, it's the best kind of love because it's shown in actions, not words. These kiwis are not an emotional people at all. If you want sympathy, empathy, compassion that's spoken you've come to the wrong place because you are not going to find it here. Ever.
What you will find goes a lot further that that. Take my brother and sister in law for example. We stayed with them for FIVE MONTHS when we moved here last March. Five months! They have two boys, one is Lloyd's age and their youngest is 2 1/2. They opened their home to us and let us live there for a long time. Without complaint (that we ever heard!). That's love.
My new friends. When we finally decided we needed to let Greg's brother and family have their house back, we rented a house close to Lloyd's school. It was awful, that house, but we were on our own again so we didn't care. One evening, shortly after moving in, there was a knock at the door and, upon opening it, we were greeted with five broadly smiling faces with treats in their arms there to celebrate our "first house". That meant so much to me. That's love.
There have been sleepovers, babysitting swaps, child care, dinners cooked and delivered, sweet things baked, pick ups and drop offs. Love in action!
We had more helpers than we knew what to do with the day we moved into this house we bought.
It sure is nice to feel so loved. Think I'll give it another year.
Or so the song goes.
I measure this year in goodbyes said, miles travelled, buckets of tears cried, adjustments made, houses stayed in, houses looked at, house purchased, school attending, a spring birthday that used to be in the autumn, a summertime Christmas, new friends made, a new family to count on, visits planned and cancelled, a successful visit and the hope of more; always the hope of more. (Sadly that's all it is, a hope.)
I'm still getting used to my one and only son having an accent slightly different than mine. Endearing sometimes, nothing but annoying at others (when I'm cranky). I want him to stay like me! I wish we had screens in our windows so the flies stay where they belong -- outside. Yeah, yeah, yeah be glad I'm not in Australia... I know.
How else do I measure a year in my life? This year in my life particularly? Love. It's true. So much love. And, actually, it's the best kind of love because it's shown in actions, not words. These kiwis are not an emotional people at all. If you want sympathy, empathy, compassion that's spoken you've come to the wrong place because you are not going to find it here. Ever.
What you will find goes a lot further that that. Take my brother and sister in law for example. We stayed with them for FIVE MONTHS when we moved here last March. Five months! They have two boys, one is Lloyd's age and their youngest is 2 1/2. They opened their home to us and let us live there for a long time. Without complaint (that we ever heard!). That's love.
My new friends. When we finally decided we needed to let Greg's brother and family have their house back, we rented a house close to Lloyd's school. It was awful, that house, but we were on our own again so we didn't care. One evening, shortly after moving in, there was a knock at the door and, upon opening it, we were greeted with five broadly smiling faces with treats in their arms there to celebrate our "first house". That meant so much to me. That's love.
There have been sleepovers, babysitting swaps, child care, dinners cooked and delivered, sweet things baked, pick ups and drop offs. Love in action!
We had more helpers than we knew what to do with the day we moved into this house we bought.
It sure is nice to feel so loved. Think I'll give it another year.
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