Getting On With It — Week Fourteen
They Were Here
My journey to buying a townhome. Below are links to previous stories.
Week Twenty-One of 52-Week Writing Challenge.
As soon as I opened my eyes yesterday (Saturday), I thought: Next Saturday, I will be waking up from the first night in our new home!
Yes, we are that close. I started this journey fourteen weeks ago, now we are in sight of the finish line.
It has been an interesting, exhausting, sometimes fun and sometimes heartbreaking journey. During my moments of nostalgia, my husband was supportive and understanding but did not join me in my tear-fests. When I was simply a little sad and wistful, he did a dance and sang a song about saying good-bye to our tight-wad landlord. His musical routine usually shook me free from my sentimentality. However, the other evening, as we were talking about the move, a tear slipped from his eye. When I expressed surprise that he was being so emotional, he said, “They were here. The memories of them are here.”
Confused, I asked, “Who are you talking about? Who was here?”
He started sobbing. “Our moms,” he said, “they were here but they will never be there. We are leaving behind the memories of them in this place. I remember my mother in her apron making pasta sauce in the kitchen, sitting in the living room and watching her telenovelas, bouncing your grandson in the air — he wasn’t even a year old and he is turning ten next week. I can hear her laughing and her voice singing tangos along with me. There will be no memories of her in the new place. She will never be in our new place! And, your mom, too. We have to remember those moments. We can’t forget those moments.”
Gently, I asked, “How long have you been thinking about this?”
“Weeks. Especially when I play tangos. I can hear her voice. Just like when she was here.”
His mother stayed with us for a month nearly two years after we moved in. She lived over a thousand miles away and turned 86 just before her visit more than ten years ago. That was her only visit. She passed February 2016. She was 95 years old.
My mother lived just two states away, was younger than my mother-in-law, and drove anywhere she wanted to go. She came for several Christmases and a few non-holiday visits. She passed in April 2012 at the age of 83.
My tears joined his as we reminisced about our moms and their visits. It was the only time I saw him cry during this moving adventure.
His outburst inspired me to plan memorials to our mothers in our new home. I will dedicate a wall to each and hang photos and other memorabilia. The project will take some time but I hope to have it done by Thanksgiving.
My week was, as my grandson says, a clown-party. The craziest problems surfaced, at work and at home. Batty, annoying, time-sucking people and problems. What a circus! Unfortunately, the craziness consumed time and energy I needed for moving activities. By the weekend, I was anxious about all that wasn’t accomplished during the week.
Friday night, my husband and I took my grandson out for his soon-to-be tenth birthday. I feel sad that his birthday is during our moving week. I usually plan something special involving an out-of-town trip with a couple of his friends but just can’t do that this year. Dinner on Friday and then a more-expensive-than-average birthday present on Saturday helped ease the feeling that I am neglecting him on one of his milestone birthdays — he will never have another single-digit age. He assured me that he understood, and he will have many more birthdays to celebrate with our day trips. I suggested a postponed birthday trip — perhaps in July. He said he would rather I rest up from the move and enjoy setting up my new home. He said he would be happy if I took a few days off later in the summer and let he and his sister stay over with us. “We can get to know your neighborhood,” he said, “Go to the pool, take walks. We can sit by the lake and have cold drinks and watch the sunset.” He’s a loving, sensitive, kind child.
He and his sister have the opportunity to spend tomorrow (Memorial Day) at a park with family friends and their children but instead chose to spend the day with us— packing and cleaning. They are great kids. With their help, my moving schedule will be back on track by tomorrow evening. And, we will celebrate his birthday (again) and celebrate our new home with a relaxing dinner at one of our favorite restaurants.
When I write my next installment of Getting On With It, we will be in our new home. Not settled but working at it — unpacking and getting closer to making it our home. As long as the kitchen is operational, our pets are in place, and we have a bed, all will be well.
We will leave here very soon — and our memories will follow.
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