We Really Really Live Here Now (Whether Or Not They Want Us)
There are so many parts to a life, and you forget what they are and how they work until you move and have to recreate the whole machine, part by part. I have admiration, but little envy, for those who move frequently for jobs and service and such. Like untangling one thousand necklaces. The pandemic doesn’t help, of course.
All that is to say, I just cried while watching a video montage teachers at my kids’ new school made for the students, talking about how much they miss being together, and encouraging fortitude. I cried because they seem so warm and welcoming and it’s a relief….and also because we’re leaving behind so many wonderful teachers and admins and friends we love…and my kids’ school mascot just changed animals!!!! And deceased white American historical figure school names! (Less of a big deal). They both started Kindergarten there. It’s home.
Car registration, driver’s license, figuring out how the fuck tolls work and the weird highway signage, transferring car and home insurance, finding new doctors, dentists, hair stylists, grocery stores I don’t hate, banks, car repair places I can trust, and FRIENDS. I’m so grateful we have two sets of friends locally who we can hang out with (safely, neurotically) and who can be our local guides and emergency contacts! As much as my island this past year feels like a continuous chaos hole full of kid harpies sucking out my life juice, the island moved across country to a foreign sea has changed things. It’s lonely. And scary. And exciting.
Bit by bit we’re getting through it. I have lists for my lists. In order to apply for THIS thing, you have to have applied for these five things, and have paid an application fee and gotten back the info from the state, with mail delays, and, and….into infinity.
We’ve been here since the first week of January. I sent out our holiday/we moved cards today. March 1st. I consider that a win.
We ignored virtual school (or as I like to call it, “Complainy Threateny Sad Mathy Time”)and I neglected the filthy house today as I plugged through other things on the list. The kids entertained themselves…taking the mattress off the bunkbed and leaping onto it from the top bunk…making slime…what else? Oh, it’s really nice out, so when the little one screamed that her brother is a “SHIT BITCH,” they were outside and now all the neighbors know, too. I’m not sure what a shit bitch is, but it doesn’t sound like something you aspire to be.
So, I’m feeling emotional, productive *enough* and pretty lucky that the cities, neighborhoods, and public schools we chose don’t have a vetting process. They have to let us in.
