the slow, careful gaze
day 12: 100 days
We are selling our house. And this means a lot of things.
It means there is a decent list of things to be fixed. Things that we probably would have ignored for the next ten years. Like the kitchen screen, the little one that sits above the sink. I had left it open one day for a breeze, but this sent a very exciting invitation to our kitten, who was lured by the clear line of sight to the birdfeeder. She then, of course, pressed her face so hard against it she nearly fell out, but didn’t — instead she ripped a decent hole in the corner. The hole doesn’t bother me, but it makes the place look rough around the edges. It also means shaking our head and wondering how we have “so much stuff” - AGAIN. And somewhere in the near future it means figuring out how to show the house to people, on the fly, when we have three cats and a small white dog. But it doesn’t mean all of these things at once, not all of these things right now.
Today, it meant that I had to look, really look hard, at all the cozy corners of my house and imagine I was someone else. Imagine I was someone trying to picture their life fitting in here, which meant I’d have to make space for that imagining. And so I spent a lot of the day staring, and then springing into action, and staring again, and trying to really see what needed to be put away, where there needed to be space.
I started in the Attic. I was methodical. I packed up any toys, art supplies, games, or costumes that wouldn’t be missed in the next few months. Of course, one could argue that if we don’t need them in the next two months, maybe we don’t need them at all. But I’m not ready for that conversation. I did leave out Catan (original and junior), a couple of decks of cards, bird bingo, and the Adam Simpson Frankenstein puzzle we still haven’t gotten to. Also, staying out for now are all the paints and most of the books - big shocker. Downstairs, I carefully peeled away the pages of Charlie Brown watercolors Lorelei had made last Christmas. I was reluctant to take them down, but they did cover the entire wall, a series, you might say. And the realtor had commented about how it might be nice to see some “clean wall space.” Later, when I needed a break, I went out and bought a boxwood wreath for the front door. Simple green, and something I had been meaning to do for months but hadn’t gotten to yet. I packed up three bags of trash. I took a bath. It took all day, my back twitched and spasmed, but I kept going until I couldn’t anymore. We got a lot done, and there is still a lot to finish. I wonder how we are moving again. And if that says anything about us? I wonder how the kids will talk about this hunt for a home so many years from now. And I hope the talk will be warm and not hard on the edges. Selling a house can mean a lot of things.
At the end of the day, I lay on the couch and read Everyday Matters by Danny Gregory while Esme worked on one of those sticker-by-number pictures. The sunlight was fighting its way through the grime on my window panes - another thing to add to the list - figure out how to get those tiny squares clean inside and out. I could hear Lorelei shouting to Christopher above the sound of running water, “What comes after R?!”. He had headed off for a shower, but she had followed and was now sitting on the floor, ordering him to help her spell words while he tried to get in a shampoo. In Danny’s book, he shares how he started teaching himself to draw after his wife had a subway accident, which left her paralyzed. He talks about how what mattered was how he was looking at the world. “I saw beauty and felt love, it was very weird, but it happened again and again. When I slowed way down and let my mind go…It didn’t matter what the drawing was like. In fact, I could simply toss it away like the skin of a banana. What mattered was the slow, careful gaze.” Wherever we end up, I hope, whatever it means, it means something like that.
Why moving? Where to? Moving to a new house is a common theme in my dreams. Last night I dreamt we bought a house that was also a music venue. It sounded fun at first, until I realized our living room would be filled with strangers and noise, always. I thought about the nightmare of getting Mina to bed on a school night with a rock show happening downstairs. What was I thinking?!!