Surprise, we're moving

uprooting myself, root by tender root.

We inherited my husband’s childhood home last year. It sits on almost an acre of land between the front and backyard but is still ensconced in the city. But here we are. We’ve been slowly attempting to fix the gaping issues it has before attempting to move in. But it is no longer sustainable for us to try and manage two homes in this economy and time in our lives. So we are biting the bullet and moving in even though it is not quite ready. After his two jobs, Tony has been tirelessly working to get the space ready for us. He is but one man though, and we’ve determined at this point, that it will be easier to live for a little bit amidst chaos as we shape the space around us than to continue scrambling to find purchase.

I dreamt of living in a house like this one day, and this one came into our lives through the worst of circumstances, the passing of a loved one. With that comes grief, sadness, frustration, exasperation, and overwhelm. There’s also gratitude, anticipation, and a smidgen of excitement. One day, far from now this new foreign place will feel like home to me and my children. We will make new memories. We will hang our the swings from the sycamore trees in the front yard. We will know where to find the light switches in the dark, and where our shoes go. One day i’ll hang up all our artwork and find a space for my tea kettle and mug and the best spot to find morning sun.

walking the same blocks with my babies for 8 years

In the meantime Tony and I are holding each other’s hands amidst the chaos of boxes and tubs. Our friends are keeping us company while we pack up our lives. Other friends are setting their lives up to help us relocate. We’re holding tearful 8 year olds who don’t wanna move. My neighbor cried when we introduced the new family moving in, which in turn made me cry, and then made the new family cry. We’ve been so firmly rooted in this neighborhood for 8 years now. I feel like I know the blades of grass, and the trees, as well as I know some of my friends. They watched me become a mother, watched me carry my babies close, then set them down to watch them toddle ahead of me.

i’ll miss these colors

How lucky are we that we are blessed enough to have a home to relocate to, that I can even be concerned about baseboard styles, and paint colors, when caregivers around the world are fleeing bombs and war. I may feel untethered, and overwhelmed, but I am so loved, and supported… and at the end of the day that is the balm I need to get us through this next challenge. One day i’ll know all the colors the leaves turn in each season. I’ll plant a garden, I’ll meet the groundhog that sets off our camera when he returns to his home under the porch steps, i’ll learn the names of the weeds growing on the east side of the house, i’ll introduce myself to the neighbors, and i’ll plant my tender roots again.

Rooting Tootingly yours,

Farai