This isn’t about the book – though I loved it as a kid. It’s about the duality within me – for I am both in one very confused body. I grew up in a city; I worked in a city. I live in the ‘burbs; we just bought a home in the mountains. I’m writing you from this new house, looking out at the trees as their leaves fall like rain. The vista is saturated in yellows and reds. There is no one around, yet I couldn’t be less lonely.
Our house is sited in such a way that it feels like an aerie. Perhaps that is why it is comforting to be here. Protected as in a nest. I’m getting to know this space, for we closed and moved in over the weekend. We don’t know each other yet – its noises are unfamiliar, the whoosh of the heat turning on, the doorbell, the ticking of a clock. The first night we crawled into bed with aching backs and weary legs, only to feel an adrenalin surge as the rain and wind magnified every creak and moan. I spent some of the post-midnight hours walking through the rooms, introducing myself and listening to their stories. Finally I fell asleep on the couch wrapped in a blanket and a better sense of my bearings. When we got home on Sunday, I fell into the arms of the familiar. I’m slow to commit, but once I get there, I’m steadfast.
I came back yesterday to continue nesting (which included the third visit from the cable people with whom I’m now on a first name basis). I went for a walk convinced I would find clues of the wildlife who are the rightful owners of this land. Of course, I have no idea what bear scat looks like, nor exactly what I would do if I met a bobcat along the road. I only know what I’ve seen on “Mutual Of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom“. And I always thought that Marlon Perkins had the better job – observing from afar as Bill would be sent in to tranquillize the grizzly. The city mouse with a country spirit. Or a country mouse with an urban aesthetic.
So I am beginning a new relationship in these calming and magnificent surroundings. I am feeling protective as a mother with a new baby, holding each moment carefully, realizing that this house and I are engaged in a transfusion of our spirits, our ‘mark’ if you will. I love the splendor, the sense of being closer to the sky. And soon this too will feel like home.
Waiting for the Karma Truck 