Lovely Saturday

A day in Northampton.

A real shower, not a cubical pretending to be one.

Lovely vegan breakfast and coffee at Haymarket - god I love this place.

Nice visit to the Forbes Library for study time.

Awesome catch time with Michele, then dinner at a fabulous new (to me and her)

restaurant in Florence, Side Street Cafe. Food was so good, and I loved the

waiter - I want him to be my waiter every where.

Now more chatting with Michele, both of sprawled on her bed, it's like when

we were housemates, but in some ways better. More history between, we've had

some challenging times, some rifts, but we have grown and grown back together.

It's like being home, in more ways than one.

Fly Away Home

Ladybug ladybug
Fly away home
Your house is fire
And your children are all gone

I am safe and fine but I learned that the house I owned in Northampton is gone. Not through fire but through demolition. A friend wrote to tell me that it is totally different, set further back from the road, turned ninety degrees. The news blew me away, left me feeling shaky, like the ground had moved underneath me and now there is less of it there. It is like a further unlinking, disconnection from my past, marking how much has changed in my life since I left there on September 10, 2001.

It wasn't my idea to buy a house, it was M's (an ex), it was her parents' gift of money that was the down payment that put us in the market. I knew it was a mistake, that getting deeper in with her was not a good idea. The house was not particularly cute, the only appealing place was the back porch - that back porch was a haven for me throughout the time I lived there. When the inside with it's semi-done renovation annoyed me, when the lack of gracious architectural details galled me, when I was angry, when I was sad, when I was peaceful - there was the back porch warm like a blanket, snug like a slipper molded to your foot with it's view of woods, a giant oak tree, my porch held me.

When I realized I was leaving is when I realized how attached I was to this place, my first true home. Not because I bought it, not because I remortgaged it on my own after M and I split (I ended things just about one year from when we purchased it) but partly because it was the longest I had lived anywhere in my entire life. 18 Winslow Avenue was my home for nine years. It's hard to remember but I think the next longest I lived at one address was four, maybe five years. I have moved over thirty times but here was this ugly duckling that I made into a cozy nest and I didn't realize it until I needed to leave it. In the last few months I lived there Chris and I worked round the clock to fix it up; finally I had wood trim in my living room, my new countertop in the kitchen, the sweet wood brackets to the wide gaping doorway to soften the look and so the chi would flow better.

Before I knew I was leaving, I finally had the front garden the way I had pictured, immature but on it's way. Tears streamed down my face as I picked lettuce knowing I would not be there to do it next season. Every day for three weeks once the decision to move was made I cried. It took all my energy not to deck the realtor I thought was amazing when she told me I had to change things.

Now it's gone. My first thought when I heard was about sheet rocking the living room. January 1994 Chris and I were adding quarter inch sheet rock to the measly, dented, ripped wall that existed underneath the 70's wood paneling I had finally ripped off after attempting to paint over at least twice. It was the early days of our relationship and I was terribly happy, still feeling burdened by having a house I could not afford but glad I was able to make it nicer nonetheless. In a fit of giggly romance I grabbed a bottle of red nail polish and wrote our initials with a heart on the old wall - it was a silly thing that would never be seen. And now that wall, the symbol of my past is a pile of rubble.

Each summer when I pass through I visit my neighbor, the one right next door. I cannot imagine what it will feel like to be there and the little, nondescript white house that held no charm but that I nurtured into a home filled with my own kind of magic, made into a place where people felt welcome, that often could not hold all the laughter that was created there will be gone. There will be a hole in the ground that only I can see, that will make only me weep with knowledge that I have moved on.

Reconnection

As my dear readers might recall I had been working on rebuilding a friendship with someone from Massachusetts. We had been emailing each other for the last few months intermittantly, with the idea that we would see each other when I was in town. In addition to trying to catch up with Michele, I wrote to a number of people ahead of time letting them know when I would be around. Usually I just grab a vehicle if I can and drive around on the chance that someone would be home. While I like having no schedule and being spontaneous, sometimes I wind up feeling very lonely so I tried something new. This meant putting myself out there, something I find very triggering. What if no one writes or calls? What if they do out of obligation? WTF does that mean anyway? Insecure? Moi?

Before camp I finally saw my daughter (unofficial foster, in my life for about 10 years now). We met and talked for about six hours straight. It was wonderful to catch up with her and really hear what's going on (a couple of emails and phone calls just don't cut it). Unfortunately it sounds like her relationship isn't going to last and her plans for schooling are vague; while her plans to have a baby is still strongly in place. I encouraged her to get some education or training before getting pregnant because it is likely she will be doing this alone. Somewhat to TGF's dismay I said I would help her financially if she goes to school. It won't be a lot, which I told her, but I would do what I could to support her goals.

As usual I stayed with Adrienne but due to a lot of craziness did not get to spend a ton of time with her but it was still good to see her and the boys. Because of the craziness I needed to make plans to stay somewhere else when I returned to Northampton from camp. In keeping with my modus operandi I did nothing about this until the bitter end of camp, staying with my pal Spirit and his housemates for two nights. It was a nice taste of my old life, living with a bunch of folks, sharing things, mish mash of furniture, the smells of a hippie house - ah the memories.

While there I spent an afternoon with friends I haven't seen in at least four years! Ann & Donna moved in across the street from my tiny house in Northampton back in 1995 and instantly we became buddies. Back in December 2002 I flew back to Massachusetts from California to attend the birth of their son. I'm pretty sure I saw them one time since then. In the intervening time they adopted a gorgeous little girl who I had only seen photos of for the last 3 years. We had a great afternoon hanging out, seeing their new house, playing with the kids and catching up. It was so sweet, really was. I must stay in better touch.

The next afternoon I finally caught up with Michele and it was so sweet to hear her voice, see her smile. Wow. Her youngest was in the car, he was a year old when I left so he doesn't have much recognition of me. He is imprinted deeply on my soul as he was the first baby I ever held before being cleaned, blood and amniotic fluid smelling sweet, soaking into my hands, dripping on my pants. When we arrived at the house I was last behind them and heard A (the eldest, the fourth birth I attended) called "Where's Dharma!?!?" So sweet. I got a huge hug from her that felt so good. Next up was A2 who has been slow to warm up during other visits. Not this time! A big long hug. OMG I was in heaven.

Later that night A2 asked me if I had children and I said no (too hard to explain Missy). Michele looked at me and whispered yes you do, meaning her kids. My heart just swelled. We stayed up talking after the kids were asleep and it was so nice, much like old times. The next morning she drove me to the airport and again the conversation just flowed. Mostly from her this time which was fine, the evening was a lot of me. When she dropped me off she asked "when's a good time to visit Ohio?". Again, hope rose and I have more faith that we can rebuild our friendship.

In my overall plans to visit the east more often than this once a year crap so I have great hopes of seeing these people and other much more in the future.