We've owned our new house (it's an old house, but it's new to us) for a little less than a month now. Words cannot begin to express how happy I am to be out of the two bedroom postage stamp I've been calling home for the past few years. The simple fact that we have a real kitchen to cook, eat and spend time together in makes it amazing to me. I have fond memories of time spent in kitchens, that’s where my large Italian family often gathered. Besides for the memories and warmth of the room, I've got the counter space to actually prep my meals so that I'm not cooking things one at a time only to reheat the whole meal. We had chicken stir fry over browned noodles the other night and everything was hot when I plated it!
I also love the fact that I have a backyard. I had one in the old apartment, but it was small and I had no direct access to it. Not a major deal, but it's still nice to have my OWN back yard that I don't have to worry about sharing with someone. I have a shed now, where I keep my new lawnmower. I let my son help me with the first of many cuts we will be using it for. He squealed with glee when he depressed the forward drive lever and the mower took off, something he wasn't expecting.
I spoke of the porch in my last post. I need to get that refinished. The railings have warped with age, and the posts should be reset. I've spoken to Mom about getting my father's rocking chair and fixing it up a bit, so it can sit on my porch and I can use it like he did. I'm worried that one day though, I'll come home, and it won't be there. I tend to do that, worry. Things play out in my head for the worse, which, while during those episodes is very, very bad (to the point of anxiety attacks in those severe cases), can often times make things better when they turn out ok. If you plan for the worse, any small positive is a victory.
I know that’s not the way to go about things, but I can't help it. I get a thought stuck in my head and I usually can't see the positive of the situation. That is one of the reasons the Future Mrs. is my Future Mrs. She has a way of putting things in perspective for me. The honesty of her words often times can snap me out of the self-inflicted "funk" and allow me to see something other than the narrow view my brain portrays. She was and is there to help me deal with the things I need dealing with, like the loss of my father.
I'm happy I have a new house, but the kitchen, porch, and backyard wouldn't have any meaning without her in it.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
Dinner for Three
Last night I made dinner for the future Mrs. and my mother. It was simple, nothing fancy, just dinner. They both came in and sat down at the table as I started to plate the meals. As I reached up to the cabinet my fingers found four plates. I had to stop and remind myself, not four, three. I pulled the three plates down and did the same for the silverware, three, not four.
Earlier in the day my mother gave me a card for my birthday. I had told her to save the stamp, to just bring it out when she stopped by to visit. It wasn’t the cost of the stamp I was concerned about, it was my reaction to the card. This would be the first card in which my father’s name wouldn’t be attached.
The card could have told me that I won a million dollars, or that I was adopted, or anything really, but none of it mattered. What mattered was me opening the card, which was extremely difficult to do. Inside there was just one name, Mom. I started to tremble a bit and she was up in an instant hugging me. That was just as difficult for her, maybe even more so, than it was for me. We stood in the kitchen crying together over our shared loss.
Dinner was quiet, just polite chit-chat. After the table was cleared and the trash was taken out, I made up an excuse to go and sit on the porch for a bit. It was warm in the house I said, and much cooler outside.
The house we bought is over 180 years old, but it’s new to us. We are still furnishing it, so my porch is bare save one of those folding chairs you can store in a little bag. It’s bright green, and looks out of place, but it’s comfortable. I plunked down to watch a storm move in and thought of how unprepared I was to lose my father.
It’s funny really. A friend and I often talk about the fact that schools really don’t prepare you properly for the real world. Sure, you learn calculus and history, which are important subjects, but it’s never about real world issues. There are no classes on how to deal with someone passing away. I only learned basic medical and CPR from taking a class I needed for one of my diving certificates. Hell, PE when I was younger was more about square dancing and dodge ball than proper exercise and nutrition. All important things you need to take initiative to learn but are needed by everyone. It’s a topic for another post I guess.
I went back inside and logged on to the blog. There aren’t many comments on here yet, but those of you who have posted provide support and understanding, which helps me out in these times. I can’t thank you guys enough.
Earlier in the day my mother gave me a card for my birthday. I had told her to save the stamp, to just bring it out when she stopped by to visit. It wasn’t the cost of the stamp I was concerned about, it was my reaction to the card. This would be the first card in which my father’s name wouldn’t be attached.
The card could have told me that I won a million dollars, or that I was adopted, or anything really, but none of it mattered. What mattered was me opening the card, which was extremely difficult to do. Inside there was just one name, Mom. I started to tremble a bit and she was up in an instant hugging me. That was just as difficult for her, maybe even more so, than it was for me. We stood in the kitchen crying together over our shared loss.
Dinner was quiet, just polite chit-chat. After the table was cleared and the trash was taken out, I made up an excuse to go and sit on the porch for a bit. It was warm in the house I said, and much cooler outside.
The house we bought is over 180 years old, but it’s new to us. We are still furnishing it, so my porch is bare save one of those folding chairs you can store in a little bag. It’s bright green, and looks out of place, but it’s comfortable. I plunked down to watch a storm move in and thought of how unprepared I was to lose my father.
It’s funny really. A friend and I often talk about the fact that schools really don’t prepare you properly for the real world. Sure, you learn calculus and history, which are important subjects, but it’s never about real world issues. There are no classes on how to deal with someone passing away. I only learned basic medical and CPR from taking a class I needed for one of my diving certificates. Hell, PE when I was younger was more about square dancing and dodge ball than proper exercise and nutrition. All important things you need to take initiative to learn but are needed by everyone. It’s a topic for another post I guess.
I went back inside and logged on to the blog. There aren’t many comments on here yet, but those of you who have posted provide support and understanding, which helps me out in these times. I can’t thank you guys enough.
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