India and I, are both wearing our pajama bottoms and sweaters. At one point in the day today, we were dressed and at church for a woman's group I belong to. Now, I am sitting in front of the fire, exhausted, procrastinating, feeling a little overwhelmed, a little blissful, a little terrified. But, as of 4:04, September 21, I am, cautiously, happy as hell.
In a week or so, India and I will be moving into one of the rental properties of a friend. He insists that I am doing him a favour, living there for next-to-nothing rent, while he renovates the three bedroom house, but I'd rather believe he's being ridiculously kind. I am not generally a material sort of girl. I'm pretty sure I could leave most of my stuff behind and not give it a second thought, but I am a "home" sort of girl. It means a lot to me that I have a place where I can feel safe, where India can make a mess without worrying too much, where we can have friends over, play our music, and the two of us can be a family. It has been excruciating, on the bad days, and frustrating, on the good days, to be long term guests, homeless and floundering, eternally grateful and uncomfortable. Moving will have it's own sets of worries, again, (it's so terrifying to raise a daughter alone) but, I'm trying to climb up, as I can, and not look down too often.
I took a different position at the group home - weekend, overnight/awake. It means that I can be home with India and still work enough hours to pay our bills. It's a fantastic deal, but that bit about not sleeping and then, coming home to a three year old, my glory! It's a little exhausting. I'm also doing substitute teaching work during the week. I suppose I need to put that B.Ed. to work on paying off that 20 thousand dollar student loan of mine (damn, damn, damn it to hell).
Since I've concluded that being debt free is overrated, I'm taking two writing courses at the U of Alberta, this semester. Man, I love school, but I think I'm getting prosody-induced ulcers, and callouses from marking out scansion. Blech.
My dad, my poor, old, crazy, dad, is not doing well, is causing my family a lot of pain, and, is thrashing around wildly at anyone he can get close enough to to slice. I don't think my emotions have caught up to my brain on this one, but experience has taught me that eventually, they will. It will hurt like hell. I'll deal with it as best as I can. Details to follow, I'm sure. Double blech.
Ya, there's all that stuff about my ex-husband working through his losses, and my book presentations, and maybe even a literary tour this spring (MAYBE), but I don't want to be a conversation hog, and this coffee ain't strong enough to get me going on love, but bring over a bottle of wine and I'll tell as much as a girl who doesn't kiss and tell, can tell. Let me warn you, though, there ain't any kissing involved, lately, and that might be a good thing, but really, all I can say to that is, "Triple Blech".
You're a peach for asking. I love you for caring. Another cookie?
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2 comments:
It will be good to see you in a new home, stranger. Hope to be watching lots of movies on your living room floor cuddled up to my favorite girl - duh, Danielle, who else???!!! I am happy to hear that this generous friend (future landlord) has been good to you. I have my stringy, sinewy muscles all poised for the big move. Just say, "when"!
I am very joyful at your state of contentment. You are one of the most deserving people I can think of. I am so excited for your new abode. I hope to spend many hours coffee-ing with you when the dust settles. : ) Thank you for a wonderful day at the park!
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