Sunday, September 20, 2015

Sunday Morning

Here's a first world problem: I'm here, this very place is barely a block away from where I sit now, I work very part-time in a lucrative job I quite enjoy, I have time to create a landscape and garden in my new tiny yard, I have a family I would easily die for, I'm 250 pages into the writing of a novel that excites and pleases me, I have enough money to fill the refrigerator and fill my fancies.

It's not all rosy: my back and hips and knees are an orthopedic mess. Much of the time I pretend I will lose weight and commit to the gym and then I will be able to walk a mile, or two or three, as I used to, but really, today, I limp when I walk and I walk less than ever. I've called the gym and I will go again, but I don't like the intrusion of it. I'm a sedentary person, a writer, a counselor, happy on the couch.

Besides that sometimes I'm lost, as in unrooted. JB is having her own hard time and though we try to help one another, that old adage that  you have to know how to swim before you can rescue someone else applies here. My biggest problem--the one that gnaws at me--is that I am too far from my daughter and her children--my grandchildren--to be woven into their daily life and daily needs--a ride to soccer practice, an early morning fill in because one of the kids is sick and there's a big work presentation required. My feelings vacillate between sadness for not moving right next door ("No, Mom, I don't think that would work; you should move where you want, really") and worrying that more and more I will become less and less prominent in my family's fabric ("Don't take this the wrong way, Mom, we're fine.")

I told you this was first world stuff. I won't prolong this post by daring to compare my actual status to the families and tragedies in Syria or to the heartless appearance of a lost job or a relentless cancer cell. I know better; I know good fortune when I see it. But yes I'm melancholy. I think (hope) it's temporary--so many changes and challenges in the past year. Now from this small beautiful land surrounded by the sea, how I figure out (try) how to walk well again and how I make certain I connect enough and well with my beloved family: these are my thoughts this Sunday morning, the kindest breeze coming through the window next to me.

Working on what matters by thinking. And not thinking. 

(nice to be blogging again)


Saturday, September 12, 2015

Cape Cod USA and Two New Arrivals :^)

Well, this is not entirely true. I love fancy meals and I'll spend my last dime on books and anything for the garden. But the last year has been one of paring down: clothes, thoughts, priorities, possessions. I want a mind without clutter and a heart with plenty of room.  

So it is that JB and I have sold our house and three weeks ago moved into a smaller version inside and out. By the sea. At the land's end. To a peninsula with 20.000 summer people and maybe 700 winter people. This is a place where I will finish my second novel and hope it's as fine as I think it might be.

And JB has her own studio 'downtown,' at Whaler's Wharf. Here's her collage work on metal. She's talented. Not yet confident, but talented. 

Here it is! This is low tide a block from our house. Provincetown Massachusetts, at the tip of Cape Cod, home to crabs and seagulls and cormorants and seals and whales sharks and shells and wavy sand. And now home to us too.

This is a typical view when strolling along Commercial Street, a three mile main street from the east end to the west end. It's so calm, walking along and seeing this. Can you tell?

And these are the Flower Cottages, one after another, booked by returning families years in advance. Tiny. Simple. Charming.

 This is how I want to approach life and this is how I want to feel most of the time. It's not how I feel now but I'm facing that there are reasons for that. Transitions take time.

One huge transition: my Mom died. She somehow managed to tell us--one by one-- that she loved us and she died with the same grace and dignity that filled her life. I won't stop missing her. I love you, Mom.

Provincetown is known for the amazing way light bounces off the water. I doubt this photo has been photoshopped. There are times when the sky and bay look exactly like this. I've seen it.

And OMG. Gay marriage became the law of the land. In my lifetime! I used to stutter over the use of pronouns: not daring to say 'she' when 'she' was the right word. No more. Still need to be vigilant and aware of safety in many parts of the world, but legal equality and public affirmation feels AWESOME.

For what I hope will continue for years ahead, my daughter and family come to the Cape each summer for a week's vacation. This was the summer that baby Reese became a toddler and not-so-brave Logan stopped being afraid of the pool. Enlarge this shot of him, please. His joy is so darling.

How about this bay view at lunch? Ross' Grill. Terrific. 

And finally, two boxes of books are unpacked and have a home. Early mornings I find myself sitting on the futon in the little blue room and just staring at them. I don't know why but I find contentment in these books. 

There. That's what I'm up to. They'll be more photos coming and more about life on Cape Cod. And life with four wild and wonderful grand kids. And life as a writer and a counselor and wouldn't it be nice if I took up kayaking? And watched a storm heading in over the bay in December? And wouldn't it be nice if I could just take a breath and settle down? Not yet. I'm here and it's nice and surely that will be enough. Soon I hope. Once I calm down and settle in. :^)


Friday, September 04, 2015

Here. I. Am.

Well: we're here. JB and I arrived in Provincetown 10 days ago, followed by a 35 foot moving truck 3 days after that. It's been STRESSFUL and EXHAUSTING--what seems like months of packing and sorting and planning and scheduling….and feeling. Possessions aren't just things: they're memories. I've cried a bit packing those boxes. It's been hard to downsize--books, clothes, papers and pens--but I did it and I'm doing it and I'm glad.

Moving to Provincetown feels almost perfect except for the fact that my daughter and SIL and 4 precious fascinating grandchildren are two hours away. Maybe that doesn't sound like much of a distance, and it isn't, but it's far enough that I wasn't there to hear about the first day of school and I can't spontaneously take them to my new beach. Still, on Monday we traveled that 2 hours and took the two older boys to play miniature golf and then games at the arcade, and then lunch at Pizzeria Uno. And afterwards, JB and I took these two 'littles'--shown here--out for ice cream and chased them in the park across the street. 

Simple good times that embed simple good memories. That is how I want these kids to remember me. And how I want them to know how much I love them.

JB has a studio at Whalers' Wharf, located on the third floor of an open air building that is just fantastic. She is excited in an extraordinary way and that makes me excited too. As for me, this 1400 square foot house is feeling good and so is the small areas of our small yard. I will take my turtle time and landscape each. 

I am also getting ready to write again, to return to my almost finished novel; first draft finished, not yet edited or shopped around. I will need a routine here and I don't have it yet, which is fine with me.

It's been pretty emotional moving. My Mother died where I have moved from and even irrationally I feel like I've left her alone. Too, I will miss the farms and fresh fruit and vegetable stands and some friends and the house. The new owners are painting all the walls white: I'm hoping the house won't mind….

If you are still reading this, please excuse the fact that this is all about me and says very little; just a broad update on my comings but beneath it all a wish for a happy life here for JB and me. I think we have a good shot at that. I wouldn't presume or dare ask for more than hope. 

I think I'll be back to blogging soon. I miss it here. Meanwhile, I'll be catching up on your blogs and sending waves of gratitude and abundance into the universe. Life is hard but damn sometimes it glimmers.