When we last spoke, I was in the process of uprooting my life and moving it to Louisiana. It was the end of the school year, I had just been married, and boxes and fears were beginning to pile up on me. Well, the move has been completed. Huzzah. If I ever see another piece of cardboard or packing tape, it will be too soon. So, apparently, in between packing up our apartments in NY and CT, driving south, apartment hunting, and unpacking all of those godforsaken boxes, almost three months have gone by. Which is a stark reminder of how late I am with sending out thank you cards from the wedding–Also, I still owe my students from last year an end-of-year poem, which I hope to publish before their new year begins (if you are reading this, I have not forgotten you!). **Update: the poem has now been published here**
Does the “To Do” list ever get any shorter? Though, my dad told me that once you’ve completed everything that you wanted to do, the only thing left is to die. I guess by those standards I am living the most vivacious part of my life right now!
This place is starting to feel like home–however much it can feel like home when there is no family living in it at the moment. Keegan has gone back to Connecticut to finish up his work with the Navy. There is a definite emptiness in the house now, a different kind than when I lived alone in NY. Perhaps this has to do with feeling a difference in our relationship now that we are married. I had read that this happens, and just like everyone else who isn’t married, I did not believe that my feelings would change. It’s hard to describe, but things are different after the wedding. Deeper. More complex, but simple at the same time.
Luckily, the excitement of being in a new place hasn’t truly worn off yet, and I still feel a bit like I am on vacation. Truly, there is more than enough things to do to occupy my time during the day. Between my readings for school, meetings with other grad students or professors, and putting away all of the inevitable odds and ends of a household that have trickled down like crumbs in a cereal box, there is little time for anything else. But, as Jake Barnes says in The Sun Also Rises,
It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.
As I write this, the sun is streaming in through my dining room window (which is where I have commandeered a corner for my office). I have been running around the house all afternoon: moving Christmas decorations and power tools into the storage shed, raking random debris from the dirt patch that is the back yard, and trying to clean off the dining room table which is currently blanketed with all of the aforementioned odds and ends. Like Jake, the daytime is nothing. I am a stoic bad-ass during the day. At night is when you miss everyone. Nighttime is when I remember that I can’t make a last minute decision to drive up to see my family, that I am not going to be in a classroom this year, and that I can’t just call up a friend to meet up for a drink. Nighttime is an all around bummer. Why is it that right when you decide to close your eyes, every anxiety you’ve ever had seems to come flooding into your memory? I think an important thing to remember at times like this is a quote I’ve heard recently:
Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.
I’m not sure who said this. It has been attributed to John Lennon, but I’ve heard it most recently in the movie, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, which I saw on the plane ride to Scotland–good movie as I recall, though I had just woken up from a lovely nap where I had my head crammed between the seat in front of me and the tray that folds out of it.
Everything will be fine.
On that note, I leave you with some pictures of the new place: