Things are finally settling into place here at the new house, just in time for Ellen and myself to come down with a nasty bug. We managed to get through the holidays, paint five rooms, a hallway, and the entryway, purchase new and antique furniture, made and bought gifts, put up and took down a Christmas tree, and had our car broken into in just three weeks.
I finally cried over it all - the decision to stop traveling, the sudden change in plans and a relocation to a city we didn't want to live in, the sale of our Airstream - all of it - in the kitchen early one morning last week. Still in my pajamas and bleary eyed, I was standing over the Chemex, pouring hot water from the kettle, and I'd clicked on Elephant Revival and the moment, however difficult, was sweet and welcomed. The tears were warm and felt good on my cheek, the release of them was what I'd needed and waited for. I tend to shut down and work when I need to, and then subconsciously wait until the moment is right. My mind, heart, and body connected at last and there it was, and I spent the day crying off and on, each time more welcome than the last. There's so much more to say, but I will wait until later, when I'm ready - I can't even look at the photographs from the trip yet, let alone really dive into my thoughts publicly. It's all still too fresh, too messy.
So here we are, nestled into a cozy little house in the Midwest. I've been working quite a bit on this blog, wanting to write more - share more. I love hearing that people are reading, people I don't know and people I do, and how something I've said has helped them in some way. I've had some suggestions for things to write about, and I'm wanting to include some of those as well. For now, I will leave you with these images, taken on a cold winter afternoon in the new house, and I will be writing again.
- mid-afternoon wintry light in our bedroom
- clay bead necklace, a gift to myself, on the dresser top
- Picasso silkscreen, an heirloom passed to me from my great-grandfather, who ran a frame shop from a shed in his backyard
- tiny kitchen, where we spend most of our time - covered in bills and a yet-to-be hung produce basket, the ever-present clementines, and ellen's aloe plant
- layers - marble, leather, wool
- 1930's floor lamp, aptly present in our 1930's rental house