This is one of the first times that I am writing and letting it be "public". Sometimes I think out loud, which often means that my thoughts are being spewed all over the listener; uncensored, un-filtered. Talking is my way of understanding, and so is asking questions. When I write it is often because I have found something that I can not just talk about and find the answer, and I usually don't want to share with anyone.
Today though, I cannot think of any reason to share except for: "Eh, why not?" I apologize ahead of time. What I have to say will probably be without humor and more than likely cryptic. It is really my lack of current sensitivity that makes me write to you - you the distant someone.
I have spent some time looking over what my life has been for the past five years. I am only twenty-five and so five years is quite a bit of time. I was twenty, five years ago, and I was a different person. I am not really sure if I was a bad person or a good person, that is how distant I am from that girl that existed five years ago. Plus, I'm pretty biased. No one wants to think that just five years ago they were a bad person, but perhaps in small ways I was. And so, you can imagine that looking back has been slightly unpleasant.
Today I was talking to a friend and explaining my reasons for not having traveled the world. I had to start with five years ago, when I married my husband. I remember wondering, even then, if marriage would forestall my travel plans. But no, I decided that my husband would surely be a wonderful travel companion. And, if given the opportunity, I'm sure he would be.
So, we were married. Then we moved to a surely adventurous life in the mountains outside of Yosemite. And, in so many ways, it was exciting. I did lots of cool stuff, I saw lots of pretty indescribable gorgeous things, there was snow in the winter and a fire in the stove. I made some good friends, and I got to meet all kinds of interesting people. The only person I didn't spend a whole lot of time with was my husband. We were pretty much at odds at all times. I thought that our relationship would surely end in divorce, simply because we could not stand to be near eachother. How can you sleep in the same bed with your enemy? The constant arguments, something wholly new to me, caused a lot of stress. My best friend at the time got a nice dose of my erratic emotional state when she hurt me, and I have lost her now. I guess I would have lost her anyway, or at least lost her to a point, because she was changing too. I don't think I could ever pass into her new life, unless of course she decided that she really wanted me there. Anyway, that piece of my life is gone. Those years that we met in college are gone. I am not the same person, and neither is she. It happens.
So, after that hectic year I learned that there was something wrong with me. I just couldn't handle my marriage, and I just couldn't handle my emotions. Then my brother spent quite a bit of time in the hospital, and I spent quite a bit of time at his bedside. Then I was at his side in general for two years. It is was difficult to have him in the house, because he was always angry at me. I feel bad about that, but I always felt the worst when I saw him struggle at things which would have normally been easy for him. I clung to the belief that somehow my God would restore him - not as he used to be but as he is. In my clinging I realized that it is not up to me to monitor myself. If there is something wrong with me then surely hiding it will do nothing. And so, slowly, I found out who I was and who I wanted to be. My emotions set themselves in order again, at least they were functioning properly. When I expressed them they seemed to be apart of me, instead of something to be embarrassed of. And in expression and realization I became stronger, and things which made me erratic no longer had their effect. God saw I was in pain surely, and that is where my strength came from.
Then my husband went back to school, at the same time that I was trying to help my brother fight for his daily life. He was gone all the time, again. But I didn't hate when he was home, so this was a plus. He, when he was home, was strong. He was consistent. He was calm. He was assuring. He was rest. He would go through hell with me. And it was then that we became eachothers. Evidence of this could be seen in how much time I spent cooking and delivering him food while he was out doing...whatever.
So in three years time we had already moved four times, and now we were in a duplex next to a drug house. The duplex was nice, the drug house gave the neighborhood a certain amount of instability. Regardless, we were well liked and the largest amount of trouble came from a woman who occasionally slept drugs off on our couch. She would arrive at four in the morning.
We were at this duplex for a year and half. We lost a baby in that house. Four months pregnant I saw blood. I cried as I held the little pieces in my hand. Chris turned on the shower and climbed in with all his clothes on. Then I became pregnant again, and for reasons of my and my babies health I became determined to reduce the amount of stress in our home. So, Matthew learned to handle his temper and his life. Then he moved out. I settled into our little home, bought some new furniture, and planted flowers. Then the baby was born, a beautiful baby boy. He was in the NICU for three days, and then they allowed me to take him home because my mom was a nurse. She stayed with me the first week, because I was having a hard time getting around. My heart had given me a bit of trouble. This sweet sweet little boy was my world for four months, especially because he just wouldn't stop crying. He was in pain, he had some pretty serious colic. At six months he really stabilized and I marveled at him. I spent the entire day marveling, because now I was going to be happy.
Then my husband lost his job. We made due and decided to use this as an opportunity to move some place somewhere - as long as it was pretty there. We ended up in Washington state. He got a job, then I had to get a job, and then everything was a blur for five months. This was move number four.
I really loved Washington, and so did my husband, so we decided that we would like to raise our son here. We decided to buy a house. We found one and packed up within a month, but last minute it fell through. Then we found a new one, then there was a problem, then another, and then another. It's been five months now. We are supposed to move in on Wednesday. And as I sit here, late at night, thinking about my life...will everything be all I want it to be? Will the house be a warm place on a cold day? Will it be the place where my son grows and flourishes? Will it be full of laughter? I sit here and imagine the future. I imagine converting the attic to a play room, and filling it with toys and beanbags and books. I imagine putting a sky light in. I imagine tilling a garden and walking the dogs. I imagine walking to the sea, within five miles of our future home, and roaming the restaurants and quaint stores. I imagine quiet nights and loud days, and I imagine life. I imagine rest. I imagine Chris up to his elbows in some old car, restoring it greasy part by greasy part. I imagine spending a summer traveling, and being relieved at the prospect of coming home. I imagine a pot of stew and a rack of cookies. I imagine the sunlight streaming through the windows, and watching my son playing in the sprinklers. Is that so terrible? Is it okay to imagine these things? Will I be able to live? Will my life start now?
I am kinder and I listen better. I am more humorous. I am stronger. I know that when hard times come I can be depended on, but only because I have learned to depend. I know what I am capable of, and I know who I am. I am more compassionate. I like people, from the angry to the broken; from the beautiful to the ugly. I can learn and I can be wrong. I can be disliked. I can hug the people I feel like hugging and I am capable of throwing a good punch. I have come to the very real realization that I have much to learn. Surely my heart can rest now. Surely my son will grow. Surely we will have a home.
Because I am now very tired. I don't know what will happen next, but today I'm tired. It is going to take more than one night of sleep to get my face to relax and my muscles to loosen. I think that having some place to rest will help, and that place of rest...isn't that my home? Perhaps writing down this summary means I can put it all behind me and look, in expectation, towards the future.