the meantime

landing somewhere new

We are here, in our new house, and I am not sure how to live here yet.  Each thing that I do takes so long, requires so much effort, and by the afternoon I find myself dishing out short answers and finding any excuse to lie down and stare. It’s been a long month, a long distance move, getting sick with Covid during this move, sleeping on camping mattress in cavernous rooms, children beginning new schools, holding the complexity of new school while keeping a steady supply of food, water, and bathing.

It’s been a long month. But I am arriving and the freshness of being somewhere new is fascinating. Last night I went outside after the sun went down to lie on the deck and stare at the moon. Underneath me a skunk scurried by, I’ve been hearing and knowing this skunk was here but to see their crooked little walk soothed me.

Each morning I’ve been watching the fog dissipate and the day animals emerge. First birds, delicately drinking dew from the top of the pear tree, then the zipping of the hummingbirds, then then ground wasps flinging themselves out of their nest jagged and insistent.

It seems like later in the day the neighbors animals come by: mostly dogs of all sizes, but also the chickens, and at about 4’o’clock, Lola, the spotted pig who lives across the street and loves snacks.

I am watching all of them, listening for how they do things. I am letting them guide me into how to be here. They are telling me how to wake up, when to drink in the warm sun, how the night time opens up again.

I don’t have a lot of conclusions yet and I hope to find my socks soon but for the meantime I’m listening. I’m watching.