a week to remember, day 6

Very late in the morning -- it's almost noon -- I'm finally sitting down to breakfast on my front porch. 

 

 

I feel more like I'm in a coffee shop, at an outdoor table. I have a full view of my street. Kids are playing in the driveway down the block, the building next to mine is in the last stage of completion and people come and go there as well (who will be my new neighbor?). I do not have a roof over me -- just a pergola and this, to me, is one of the outstanding features of my cottage. There is plenty of light coming through it, both for my plants on the porch and through the windows into my living space. 

The pergola style does mean that I am exposed to the elements. Was that a sprinkle I felt? I can move back under the overhang, or I can go inside to my reading nook. I love my options!

It's a late meal because I spent the first four hours of the morning unpacking more boxes. The kitchen is done, the other rooms are half done. Millie is coming home this afternoon and I want to go with Ed and his truck to the recycling dumpsters before that, so that I can get rid of the huge mountain of flattened cardboard. Even with his pickup, I think it'll be a challenge to do it in just one haul. 

(at the dump)

 

 

Is it the 4th of July? For a moment I thought that was yesterday. Dates are merely calendar pages with lists of what I must do at what time. That they actually represent something important -- well fine, but who has time to reflect on that?

A half hour of drinking in this porch moment and then I am back with the boxes. By early afternoon, I have most of them unpacked. This is the one benefit and perhaps the only benefit of moving so often -- you so do not want to be stuck finding space for every item in a box, that you're likely to throw or give away things that are only marginally relevant to your life. I could die tomorrow and my kids would have an easy time dealing with my possessions. But decluttering is only a beginning. Piles begin to form over time. You stuff things randomly into any corner just so you dont have to decide their fate at the moment. If I have any resolve after this last move, it's that I will not create piles and stashes of stuff. I swear I've been saying this for many decades, but this time I've been hit hard by all my packing and unpacking. I placed every item with care at Steffi's House. Perhaps this time though I'll succeed in getting closer to minimalism rather than excess. And I remind myself that I came to America with an American Tourister suitcase and a flight bag (remember those?). True, I left some possessions in Warsaw and I expected to return to them or bring them to my life here, but when my parents got rid of everything I left behind (behind my back!) I have to admit that I didn't miss any of it. And from this suitcase and bag, the possessions multiplied. Because that really is the American way. We like our stuff.

 

But this isn't a trait I want to dwell on. It's the 4th of July and I surely want to say something that has both gravitas and lightheartedness to  it: How about noise? Because I'm hearing a lot of it on this 4th. We are a loud nation. We like to expose ourselves to noise. Our music is loud. And our fireworks are loud and we love them precisely for that reason. Why else keep your kids up late and brave swarms of mosquitoes on this 4th of July if not to revel in the explosiveness of a firework display? Sure, the color and sparkle thrill us too, but you cannot gloss over the fact that we all probably lose a bit of our hearing every year as we attend these displays.

No, of course I'm not going. But I'll hear the noise anyway, because people love popping firecrackers in their driveways on this day. Why? It's the thrill of effectuating a loud bang.

(I must admit that we are not alone in this love of loud sounds. Having lived in a construction zone for 5 months, I listened to a lot of music played by the construction crew. I liked it, but it was decidedly loud, and not in English. Still, even in loudish countries, our exuberance and thrill of the loud puts us way ahead of the pack.

 

Julie brings Millie home at 3 and here's some good news -- I am breaking down the last moving box as they come in! Oh, I still have stuff to do. Pictures to put up. Small things requiring my attention. Lots of plant work. But unpacking? Done! In 24 hours I manged to put away every single item. Phew!

Millie initially does not seem bothered by the new home. She looks around, with curiosity.

 

 

 

Is it because she has seen it before, or does she think we're merely visiting someone? 

She rests, and then I take her out for a walk. I'm only two blocks from Sally's House and yet the location couldn't be more different. I am close to the bike path, the prairie fields, nature that is something other than just mowed lawn.

And at first, Millie is a happy pup. 

 

 

 

But on our walk back, two dogs from a home a few doors down, come running to their own fence line barking and growling at her. I've met the owners before -- nice people who admit they have troubled dogs. Millie freezes. She has encountered mean dogs before -- near Sally's House there are two of them -- but these guys caught her by surprise. My terrified dog pulls like never before to get away from this space, these dogs, their owners, all of it. 

At home, she figures out that if she is on furniture, she can see people out the window. Including the family across the street with little kids playing with firecrackers. Their dad throws something down, it pops, they jump on it, there's smoke. I haven't a clue as to what this firecracker is, but Millie is in no mood for any of it. She barks her head off at all of it -- the loud pops, the kids running around clouds of smoke, and perhaps her own situation -- a dog suddenly in a place that just isn't the home she remembers. The scents are a match, but it all feels... very very strange. different.

 I sit closely with her and when she is in my arms, she quiets down. But her body is stiff. The girl is tense. And when i let her go, she is back on the chairs, barking. At everything.

 

 

I put her in her crate where she cannot see anything. The two growling lunging dogs have put her on alert. It'll take a while now to get her to feel confident again. 

 

And me? I can't believe I'm winding down a year of choppy seas and turbulent winds. Could it be that I am finally settled? My week to remember ends tomorrow, but really it ends today, on July 4th. In my new home.

with so much love...