Remembering Myself

Today E and Mr. E left for an overnight trip to the Valley, our home until a few weeks ago. I also happened to have today off. What did I do with myself?

First, some errands. I brought our kitty to the vet and then got a haircut. I thought I would be frugal in this time of sparsh incoming cash, so I went to the local $12 haircut chain. I should have learned my lesson last time I did this where we used to live - I got a very sub par haircut and I hated the fact that they didn’t blow dry my hair. The quality of this haircut was MUCH WORSE, and I didn’t realize it until I got home and looked at myself in the mirror. Lesson learned: when you’ve got the kind of hair where EVERY STRAND CAN BE SEEN, invest in a hairstylist. I’m done being cheap on this one, folks.

After that, it was off to the local espresso/coffee shop to sip a latte and work on some cover letters for three teaching job openings. It was nice to spend some time in a place reminiscent of the Valley - a few others on their computers who were there longer than I, and the sound of the espresso machine in the background. Music to my ears…

After sending off the applications, it was back home for a quick lunch and then off to do some badly-needed clothes shopping. I was down a personal shopper (that being E.) but I kept pretending she was right there beside me saying things like “Now, I know you wouldn’t normally wear this color, but just give it a try…….” It worked: shopping trip successful. I even managed to get a nice outfit that requires very warm weather and a nice restaurant. And perhaps a martini. (HINT HINT to E.)

My goal for the day was to end up at the nearest independent movie theatre to see this film. I had about 2 hours in between, so I decided to get something to eat. Trouble is - if you know the Cape, you know there aren’t too many quick eats to be found - and “cafes” are just really nice restaurants. To save time and effort, I decided to bring my book into a fairly nice place and eat in alone.

I’ve eaten at a restaurant alone before, but mostly it’s happened when I’ve been traveling for work and am in a city I’ve never been to, and there’s something comforting about being a completely anonymous solo-eater. This time, I was dining in the town next door, in an area where everyone knows everyone. I noticed I felt a bit more uneasy, but persisted in ordering a delectable salad (arugula, pear, toasted pine nuts and italian cheese) and happily read my book. It went fine.

In fact, it was while waiting for my salad where I read the chapter about not watching TV. The author talks about creating spaces of time where her children can play and create and just BE, and being relatively TV-free has helped her family do that. I flashed back to a few months ago (before Mr. E) where I would be consumed with reading and barely watched any TV. Thinking about it, it seems that E. and I also talked more then, without the lure of a blaring made-up story line in front of us. I remembered feeling peaceful. And happy. I remembered who I was - and I liked myself then.

I haven’t liked myself lately.

Since the Big Move we’ve worked so hard to get things going - my job, E’s job, making sure Mr. E is cared for. When I’ve made sure all that stuff is done, I’ve just been collapsing in front of the TV, just biding time until the next scheduled thing. Our off time has been mostly spent with family - which as been great, and as I reflect on the past few weeks it’s when I’ve been the happiest.

But I’ve let something slip a little, and tonight I caught a glimpse of it. I’ve let slip the little nooks and crannies of my daily life where I listen, where I imagine, where I get inspired. Instead I’ve pushed my “off” button and retreated into darkness. And that makes me a very sad person.

Tonight, as I killed a small bit of time before the film by parking my car at the beach, I gazed out at the ocean in awe that this beautiful place is our new home. That at any moment that vast bit of water that connects all on earth is a mere 5 minute drive away. A place that feels so secluded to me also feels so connected at the same time. Our new home.

Then I watched a film* based in Northampton, where E and I landed like pioneers knowing no one and set up a small loft downtown and had the time of our lives. As image and image of downtown and the surrounding farmland floated on the screen, I fell in love all over again with that place. That place where E is sleeping right now. She in our old home, I in our new.

I’ll always love that place - it’s like a first love that can never be replaced - so hot and raw and deep that it renders you speechless. But it is no longer my home. My home is where E and Mr. E and I can build our lives in the fullest way possible - and that is here.

Perhaps we are home, wherever we are, when we stop and remember ourselves. When we remember what feeds us, what challenges us, and what inspires us. And then, instead of turning away, we do that thing that we long to do but is too scary, or too risky, or too hard. We just do it.

And we are happy.

*ETA: I guess my link didn’t work - the film was “Young at Heart,” a documentary about a chorus made up of senior citizens who sing rock songs - I highly recommend it.