Monday, January 13, 2014

Burnt Toast

Gabriel and I left our Tennessee home praying that we had strapped on the car top carrier the right way and that our car could manage the weight. Every crack and crevice of our little four-door stick shift was jammed with everything we owned. My lap even was piled high with a terrarium, some blankets and an over stuffed purse.

       Waking up the morning of the move I felt the heaviness of an era ending. Gabriel and I were often sad in Nashville.  We would have been sad anywhere. The last six months have been full of anxiety, fear, and real life trauma that put any previous college drama to shame. But in Nashville we had a safe space to live and still be able save some money for this next independent venture. We could often press snooze for an hour, just laying in bed holding each other and resting. It was a lonely time in many ways, but it was a unique time for Gabriel and I to lean on each other. We were blessed to be able to be together nearly always, whether we were sad or happy or anxious or just tired. The freedom and lack of responsibility was a gift. I am so grateful to my sister Katherine and her husband Josh for hosting that restful era. Now we’re on to the next stage of life. 

       We moved on the coldest day of the year. When we arrived in Columbus, my sister Becca and her husband Teddy were there to help unload, along with two of their friends. I mostly opened and closed the door for people, attempting to keep the heat inside and be as helpful as I could. Gabriel’s hands were blue from the chill and clouds of labored breath billowed in front of the kind people trekking heavy loads up multiple flights of stairs. With their help, our car was unpacked in 15 minutes. 

       Our new home is more than I could ever have imagined. Each room is a different color. The kitchen is a bright yellow with matching black counters and backsplash. I’ve done more legitimate cooking there already than I ever did in Nashville. (Luckily my sister Katherine is a fabulous and generous cook who fed Gabriel and I often.) 



       The downstairs bathroom is an alarming, almost comical bright green. The living room is a dark purple, chocolate color with a light blue accent wall, and best of all, there’s a piano. Gabriel was studying music and theatre performance in college and not having a piano for him to play for the last six months has been such a disappointment. Now Gabriel plays for a few hours everyday, giving me a chance to rest on the couch, napping, reading, and enjoying the stunning musical gift my love has. 



       The second floor is all ours. Our bedroom is still a mess. Clothes unsorted and dressers in the middle of the room, but my parents bought us a new mattress as a gift and having our own bed has been wonderful. That’s the only room we plan to paint. Purple walls don’t really suit my fancy. The nursery is my favorite room of the house. It’s a small room with light, pale green grey walls and one tall window. We haven’t sorted anything in there, but something about that room feels fresh and sweet and safe. I can’t wait to show it to our son. Our bathroom is a dusty dark blue, and the bathtub has the perfect back incline with plenty of hot water. It’s heaven. The guest room has the most natural light of any room in the house with warm orange walls and three east-facing windows. Family and friends will always have a place to stay with us. We’ve set up my new sewing machine on a small table under an east-facing windows. Hopefully I will get used to having so much space and I’ll be able to venture from room to room boldly. Breaking my habit of hiding in bed will be even easier when I have a baby to tend to in the next room. 

My sister, Becca, set up a Welcome Registry on SoKindRegistry.com for people to welcome us and help us settle into our new home. People have been so overwhelmingly generous and Gabriel so gracious at receiving. We’ve quite nearly finished furnishing our whole house and with multiple Kroger gift cards we’ve been able to stock up on some much-needed groceries. We’ve been well taken care of. 
I mostly feel humbled, grateful and anxious. I’m just now entering the thirty-first week of my pregnancy and I read online that our little babe is entering a growth spurt. I would argue that he’s already hit his growth spurt and my body couldn’t possibly handle a baby bigger than he already is but, sadly I know there are two more months of intense baby growing. My shifting center of gravity, the weight on my lungs and the near constant kicking has begun to wake me several times a night. Pair that with the crazy, vivid pregnancy dreams and I have had some restless nights. But I expected this. The physical exhaustion from settling in, mental fatigue from meeting new people and making decisions, plus little sound sleep has resulted in many a hairpin emotional swing. 

       Friday was particularly weepy. It started with a nightmare, ended with the horrifying news that a friend of mine was raped again and in-between, I burnt the toast. The toast may seem trivial, and yes, it is, but I cried over the toast, too. I remember thinking as I put the toast into the toaster oven, ‘Wow, we’re already almost done with a loaf of bread. Will we have enough?’ And then, I burnt it. And Gabriel burnt his hand twice trying to take it out of the toaster oven. I went into the bathroom and cried. I tried to collect myself that whole day, but tears would suddenly spring into my eyes and I couldn’t explain them or fight them away. I was scared when we went to the store that night for some food essentials to get us by. I was anxious that night when we laid down to sleep. 

       The next day was better, and Sunday even better, but today is hard. Sleep has been bad, and Gabriel and I have had some tough conversations. Today is Gabriel’s first day of work and the first time I’ve been alone in our new home. I had lunch with my sister and her husband and spent some time at my sister’s work, but now I’m home and waiting. I made myself stay downstairs in the living room to keep myself from crawling back into bed. These familiar grey Ohio skies seem as weary as I am. But this dark green overstuffed chair that was given to us is holding me just right so my back doesn’t hurt and I can breathe a little better. We have received so many gifts, and met so many friendly faces, but our escape is over. Our baby is coming soon and I can’t hide anymore. We have a responsibility to move our lives forward and today I choose to sit downstairs with the blinds raised, alone in a new house. A little step forward. 

2 comments:

  1. In your words and between the lines . . . I hear so much growth. Maybe not as quickly as you would like to see it come . . . but it's there, I hear it, sense it and feel it . . . your healing. Praying for you and the peace that passeth all understanding. love love ~

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  2. This is good. Steps forward are good, even when they are little baby steps forward, they are still forward. Miss you around here. I'm so glad we got to be your harbor for a while. I wouldn't change anything about the time you were with us. Love you, sister.

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