It seems there are always long times to go through. Slowly we emerge from one long time and enter into another. Multiple long times tend also to take place concurrently and overlap, each made up of particular aspects, perspectives, and details. They are seasons and journeys, ordeals and struggles.
I find myself lately journeying through a long rearrangement of our house and its members. Right this minute, our Clover kitty huddles on my tall chair near the computer (acting nonchalant in the manner of cats asleep, while poised to leap and follow whenever I exit the area). From the roof we hear thumps, footsteps, and staccato beats, as men with power tools replace the overlapping aspects of a housetop. We need our shelter to remain stable, and it's been a very long time since the roof was last renewed.
Come August, I will have lived with Tim in our current home 30 years. At this point of early June back in 1991, we hoped with great hopefulness for the sale closing (the price way lower than the 2.5K it would sell for today), our two benefactors the government (FHA home loans) and Tim's rich uncle from Colorado, who loaned us the down payment at five per cent interest. We managed to pay back his uncle, as well as the city after they immediately put in a sewer connection to replace the ubiquitous septic tanks in our neighborhood.
Financially speaking, we lived on love in this marriage for a very long while.
Now an early June high pressure front has warmed and dried our city, making work on the new, brown roof tiles go quickly. We'll see how long the dry months stretch this summer: we don't know yet whether or not forest fire smoke will choke a brown landscape. But it's nice that this bit of land (link is to the journal that published my piece about our place) is stocked with drought-resistant plantings, thanks to our son, James. And I will view them from the new building out back pictured above and below (James approves!): my office/"she shed"/yet-to-be-named retreat.
As well as giving me space, the "shed" will provide storage areas, after my sister-in-law Stephanie (Tim's sister) moves into my current office space and the other bedroom. She'll bring her own two kitties. Clover will face challenges besides having new companions. We each pray to enter into this possibly long time, this new season, jointly with life and love and willingness to struggle. The adventure should be well worthwhile.
3 comments:
Wow--that is not what I picture when you said you were getting a "shed"---it's a beautiful Tiny House--the sort people live in entirely these days.
And, truly, A Room of One's Own,
a little retreat house-A Skete of One's Own.
Perhaps more writing will happen there? We readers of yours can only hope.
But I can also imagine you will be busier instead, with Stephanie living there. How fun! (I hope.)
At any rate, it's beautiful--dove gray.
And in the big house, you'll be snug as a bug, anyway, under a new roof.
I predict a long stretch of happiness ahead! Wouldn't that be nice?!?!
Loved the piece about living on love... and donuts.
Hi Fresca!
It is the size of a tiny house; also it's below the threshold for permits, etc., so that all helps.
Probably half of it will be "creative" storage, but Tim's ideas for that sound good.
Yes, maybe more writing! It's been a while.
Stephanie and I have been friends since before Tim and I were. So we get along. Tim now faces sort of the same challenge I have with my parents: a lot of love there, but it's easy for buttons to get pushed. Aaand we will all deal with these things as well as possible.
Thanks for reading the flash piece. I liked the baked French donuts best--and those Southern men were characters. But it was my first real brush with embedded racism there. Another story waiting to be told...
DEANNA: That is so neat that you and Stephanie's friendship even predates yours and Tim's!
There's nothing like family for getting under one's skin, even with the best of intentions on all sides.
Ha, ha, maybe it's Tim who will need a break in the skete house...
Post a Comment