things are happening

It is 3:14 AM on Wednesday.  I am wide awake, eating a slice of pizza and drinking a glass of water.  The one remaining light in our kitchen just burned out and I’m sitting here in the dark.  The last load of cloth diapers that we’ll be using for awhile is in the washer.  I am surrounded by the mess of everyday life: an empty orange juice jug, dirty dishes, plastic grocery bags.

The living room is overflowing with more mess of everyday life, plus all the chaos that comes with moving.  We’ve filled up plenty of boxes and are running out of our empty cardboard box stash.  I’ve started packing up various bags instead in the hopes that we can stretch our dwindling supply of boxes a little further.  It’s come to my attention that even though I’ve made every effort to ensure that my kids don’t have too many toys, they have too many toys.  I have no idea what to do about that except pack them all and do a big cleanout after Simon’s birthday and Christmas.

Today is our last full day in our house.  I do not have the time or the energy to process what this means.  This move is the most bittersweet I’ve experienced thus far in my life.  There are people I don’t want to say goodbye to.  There are things, like our house, that I’d like to keep around.  I’d like to keep nursing Simon in the blue back bedroom with its perfect midafternoon shadows.  I’d like to continue watching Charlie run through the living room with pajama bottoms on his head.  I’d like to sit on our couch and snuggle with my husband.  There are a lot of things I’d like to hang onto forever.  Moments, mostly.  Spaces.  People.

But there’s this moving on thing happening.  I don’t like the phrase “move on” much, really.  And yet I use it constantly, as if saying it will make me a rational and mature human being, an adult/robot who says and does everything with clarity and assurance.  It doesn’t.  I am still the snivelly insomniac woman-child crying happy/sad tears in the middle of the night.  Some things don’t change, and shouldn’t.  I spent so much time thinking that I should change.  It was in this house that I realized that I am a complete person as I am, and yes, some things about me do need adjusting and tweaking.  But overall this skin is a comfortable place to be.  It doesn’t hurt to exist anymore.  I am okay.

We moved here as a couple with a tiny little guy growing in my stomach and we’ll be leaving here in a couple of days as a family of four.  Three years, two pregnancies, birth trauma, postpartum depression, paradigm shift, healing, laughter, tears, music, sex, words.  How many words have I written here?

Thousands.

The words will follow, as they always have.  They’re kind of like demons.  You can’t escape them.  And really, why would you want to?

Things are happening here and they have their own sweet rhythm and I am completely stressed but at my center I am calm because I know that what will be will be.  I was awakened earlier tonight by Simon needing to nurse.  When he finished, he settled into the curve of me, his tiny body all soft and warm, and it was all I could do not to burst into tears as I rubbed my cheek on his downy hair.  Nothing makes sense.  I don’t want to let go.

There is nothing else to do, though, than just that.  Let go.

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2 thoughts on “things are happening

  1. Oh mommy. I so so so so so get you. It’s confusing and awesome and awful and sad and energizing and depressing to leave somewhere behind. At least, pretty soon your new home will be the place where all the wonderful things are happening. I would come over to help you pack if you weren’t a million miles away!

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