Friday, September 24, 2010

No Time Like the Present

I have not been a very good blog friend lately. I find the transition of September to be a challenge for me: change of clothes, change of seasons, change of heart.
I live in the most beautiful place to experience Autumn. The leaves on so many tall stately trees have begun their own change: from green to yellows and oranges and reds. Within a week or so, the landscape will explode with color.
And my yard will explode with fallen leaves.
I spent today doing what I love. I picked up fabulous lawn signs for the Art Fair in my yard next weekend, I planted mums in special places in my front yard. I had friends here for dinner and several areas of my house are getting painted--best of all, not by me!
Things are getting easier. It's been a long time before I've been able to say that. My heart is settling down and my head has stopped insisting that the unimaginable be understood.
Tomorrow (Saturday) I will drive two hours to my Mother's house, where I will meet the couple who will be renting the house my Father built and where I lived with my family until I was 22. I'm glad the responsibility of fixing the house up--no small task--and finding tenants will be behind me. One more large check mark completed.
But what have I done? The house is empty. The carpet has been ripped up. My Father's favorite chair was thrown away. There is no trace whatsoever of my Mother in the kitchen. There is no trace of any of us, except for the Virgin Mary statue, standing inside a white kitchen sink, near the back door.
My brother cannot walk in the house again. He said it made his soul ache.
Tomorrow I will meet this very nice realtor named Sue and a man and a woman who will move in on October 1st. Then I will do one last walk through of Aunt Sophie's dining room furniture set, now packed in the garage until I either sell it or arrange for a storage unit. Then I will take myself to Mr. Sushi and I will have my three orgasmic favorites. (I am not kidding: I have to stop myself from making passionate sounds.) :)
Then I will drive home, and hopefully I will plant some more mums, place a few YART lawn signs in choice locations, cook a dinner mostly from the local farms. I will probably phone a friend or two and I will probably arrange my affirmation cards for sale at the YART.
And if I'm lucky, I will notice mid way through my day that my heart doesn't hurt in the way it has for too long now. Things are looking up.
And guess what? If you are reading this, you're part of the reason. Blogging has become a special part of my life. There will be times when I am not present as much as I'd like to be, but the bonds here are never far.


  1. I'm so glad I dropped by. Life transitions such as you describe here are so heartwrenching. It's good to have the company of friends "out there" who can hold your hand and heart and understand. Seeing Holy Mother was a blessing, a good sign that the spirit of those who came before still infuse the house. And, more good spirit will now find its way in.

  2. Blogging is a queer connection of known with unknown..

  3. So rather than write all that down why not just say "Whew, finally all my shit is coming together and things are looking up."?;-P}

  4. Kj - You have a very full life. It is full of all the things that are important. I aspire to be where you are right now. I will be at YART in spirit, and I know that your parents' house will be happy to have new inhabitants, new memories, and be full of hustle-bustle life again.
    Enjoy your weekend and the fall! Try not to attract too much attention at Mr. Sushi - hahaha! xo Pam

  5. I am so sick of blogger eating my comments! Grrrr. I will try one more time. I echo what Pam said and also send you many hugs. Yart is around the corner, you are a very blessed and lucky woman.
    And always know that I am here for you. xoxo

  6. Ok, this is the 3rd comment and blogger ate the rest I don't have time for more, so I will send an email if this does not work. Poop!
    I echo what Pam said. And I am always here for you.

  7. Wish I was invited for dinner Marianne had "The best lobster"ever jummie.

    Good for you from now on only hill-up :)),memories are in your hart...

    For me it's 22 years ago we emtied our familyhouse and Marianne's parents came to live there.
    It took some courage to walk in some 12 years later but whit M's help I did.

    Enjoy the wonderful colours of autumn,

  8. Your words were so eyes (and my heart) immediately welled up.... transitions - of any kind - are difficult....
    You have handled yours with courage, grace and....humour. These are the best possible emotions to steer you ahead....looking forward to the Furure....but also relishing the Present. (Something I, myself, am only just learning to do!)

    The Catholic Girl is me is delighted that the Blessed Virgin still keeps watch over your parent's home....

    Enjoy that sushi....and, as Pam says, - not too many noises when you are dining at "Mr. Sushi".. ;)


    ♥ Robin ♥

  9. Obviously you have been very busy doing very important life things.
    How sad to dismantal the family home.
    I can't even imagine. I moved out of ours at age 18 and mom moved out when dad died in 1972. So I said goodbye to it a long time ago. But I still have my memories.
    Happy YardArt Day! Can't wait to see the photos of that!

  10. This IS a special place, and the events you are going through are so close to home for me. My mother died 2 1/2 years ago, and the house held her, like a mirror. I didn't like cleaning it, but tearing up the carpet was a relief.
    Have a wondrous art sale, and colorful memories.

  11. Looks like Blogger regurgitated Annie's comments and they are here after all. I have to admit, that brought me a laugh.

    We get great color here, too, but not until later. Only the dogwoods have begun to turn.

    I am sure its difficult letting go of your parent's house. It made me sad to think of someone else living in my grandparent's house after they died.

    But, KJ, you've made me hungry for sushi. Not fair.

  12. your memories will stay the same and always with you kj. i can only imagine how hard this day was for you and i'm sorry you had to go through it.
    thank goodness for sushi and baby gap.
    love + hugs
    (waiting for Chuck so we can go to the ranch now!)

  13. to me, sushi and orgasms are an oxymoron. How can you vomit and proceed to, well, you know.

    have I told you I detest sushi of any kind? it's just WRONG.

    That said, I know millions and millions of people are wrong and are orgasmically enraptured!

    I'm sorry for your sad day. I know it's hard, but as I said I think your dad would be thrilled to have life in the old house again ;)

    I hope you had a great coffee date with you know who! I'll see her soon, thanks to you and JB.

    catchyalatergator ;)


  14. hello annie, i must admit that the statue of the Holy Mother is rendered less official because of the kithen sink my Father unceremoniously placed Her in. :)

    shubhajit, how totally true!

    mark, now mark, that is asking alot of me, to be concise.... :)

    mim, see email, see coffee, see good friend

    pam, thank you so much. you have this great soothing quality. you do it with humor often, but the care and soothing is always there. tsupmwah! if you aspire to be where i am, that can only mean with kids who don't need dinner, rides, advice, and juggles. right?
    ♥ p.s. i was not asked to prematurely leave mr. sushi. my groans must have been quiet ones.... :)

    annie, you are so very cute! i can hear you growling at blogger :)
    i am sorry you will not be at this YART. i think next year for sure!

    marja, ah, so you understand...i was touched to hear that it was marianne's parents who moved into the house. and yes, we had the best lobsters ever! next time, marja, maybe you will join us? xo

    robin, you and i live in the same forest. right here, right now. i am very glad. ♥

  15. lynn, can you imagine the challenge of insuring GOOD photos of so many of us at the YART?! this coming, of course, from an aspiring babe.... :)

    dianne, thank you for coming here. i see that you write beautifully.

    "the house held her, like a mirror." how powerful this image, dianne. and i know what you mean about the carpet. i don't know why it was a relief, but it was that for me too. xoxo


    lori, tsupmwahx5!!!!!

    lo, i had a good day. i'm happy with it. and i've had a good night too. soon, soon, soon ♥

  16. Oh dear yes this is hard.....
    We are also selling our parents house (the same house where Marja's parents has lived but than longer)
    Marja and I were first neighbors then my parents moved away and years later moved back to the same street and a few years later when Marja's father sold his apartment they bought their place.
    From there they moved to a 55 + apartment across the street. Where my father only lived for 6 months then we had to move my mother to a resthome, since she can't look after herself. A lot of moving in one year.......
    We moved my mom twice in one year so we had to reduce their belongings twice. Your whole life runs through your hands.......memories and feelings . You have to let go of a lot of things just like letting go of your parents......
    I did this in stages...........
    We are selling the house , but that is not emotional to me I guess that because my parents have moved a lot. Reducing their belongings was more emotional to me.....

    But I am happy to read your heart feels lighter and more healed dear! Yeah!
    big hug from me!

  17. When your heart is full there is no room for regrets!!
    Love and hugs, Dear one.