I have cried more in the past week than I have in the past decade and a half.
We spent a solid month tearing down wallpaper, scrubbing and sanding walls/trim/baseboards/door and window facings, tearing out carpet, painting (and painting and more painting), hauling boxes, and dealing with several expected-but-still-unexpected hiccups that come along with buying a house that was vacant for at least a year. The work was exhausting. The “discoveries” were sometimes exciting and sometimes stressful. My evenings ended the same way my mornings began – with a dose of ibuprofen. There were nights when my hands ached so badly from the day’s tasks that I woke myself up crying. One afternoon, I had a panic attack about hot dogs. There were moments when I vowed we would never be able to move because we’d never get the house ready. And I definitely cried a little, but there was always some new task to focus my attention on, so the tears waited and multiplied.
I taught myself how to cut quarter round trim. Gomez and I learned how to use a pneumatic brad nailer. When he wasn’t busy making new friends, Elroy learned how to rip out carpet.
And then, one day, we realized we had done all we needed to do, that any work we haven’t finished yet can wait until evenings or weekends or snow days or school breaks. It was time to move.
The overwhelmed feeling and wallering punched me in the guts on our first night here. For the first time in a year, we ate supper off of our own plates and drank from our own cups. For the first time in a year, I was able to store all of my clothes in my own dresser, instead of in plastic, shoebox-sized totes. For the first time in a year, Elroy had his own room with his own furniture. For the first time in a year, we showered in our own shower. And as those realizations came into focus, I started to waller.
I wallered in gratitude, and I cried happy, thankful tears.
I am so grateful for the generosity that has been shown to me and mine. I’m grateful for the person who offered to let us park our camper on her land. I’m grateful for everyone who kept an eye out for homes for us. I’m grateful for everyone who checked in on us. I’m grateful for people who loaned us tools. I’m grateful for those who offered to come help work on the house. I’m grateful for those who offered to help us move, and for those who spent a hot Saturday morning carrying, loading, and unloading furniture. I’m grateful for our plumber/electrician who helped me and Gomez by doing jobs that we were out of our depth on. I’m grateful for our our neighbors’ warmth. I am grateful for every kindness that has been shown to us throughout this process.
Most of all, though, I am especially grateful for Gomez. Gomez stuck with me and saw me through the worst year of my life, even though he was having a tough year, too. He let me be sad when I couldn’t be anything else, listened to me when I needed to rage or complain about this or that, and stepped in and picked up the slack I wasn’t able to carry. He listened patiently and without judgment as I tried to process all of the upheaval I was feeling. He worked alongside me and indulged my crazy paint color ideas. He didn’t get angry with me when I threatened to poke his eye out with a yard stake. I am forever grateful for the stability and consistency that Gomez brings to my life.
I’m grateful for having our own space to spend time together in. This afternoon, Elroy told me and Gomez that his favorite time in the new house is the time we spend together in the family room after dinner. That’s my favorite time, too.
The Homesick Homecomer 