happy fall, and intro to kcwc!

happy fall everyone!

l to r:  the big guy, ash, bean, aunty emmy, boy b and girl a in the uc davis arb 10/9/12

ok, this blog is going to slightly diverge from the normal subject matter, so bear with me.  initially, i was going to hop on tonight to interrupt our normal programming for a few days, but i realized when i got here it's already been almost another month since my last post (!), so i'm going to start by doing a very quick catch up session, then get on to my digression.

in some parts of the country, it is fall.  technically, it is also fall in davis, but never living outside the midwest, my mind and body register fall with so much visceral stimulation and not just the date on the calendar...changing leaves obviously, but also the smells and sounds that come along with that.  the notable chilling of the air that i would assert also has a smell to it, the migration of birds, winter squash and leafy greens at the market, cider mill, apple picking, and football season.  surely, these clear markers of fall go on somewhere, but not all of them here.

we have come to the point where our overnight lows match chicago and michigan's daytime highs, still with no hint of clouds and temperatures settling in the mid to high 80s most days, though we've had our first days of 70s this week, and the mornings have gotten downright chilly.  however, we continue to dress in our summer wardrobes.  leaves haven't really changed here and i'm not sure they ever do?  

a lot of summer produce still populates the market, and for all of the fertile soil in this valley, apparently, apple trees don't like it.  i haven't yet confirmed this by taste, but certainly the scent of cider and donuts doesn't drift for miles around here, and i deeply miss the bright, happy faces of my golden apples i bought by the bushel every fall...what i believe to be the perfect fruit, actually.  sweet, crisp, refreshing, filling, nutritious, yet hearty enough to throw in a purse or backpack, apples are the perfect snack.  how i miss them.  fortunately, after many angry calls to direct tv, saturday, sunday, monday, thursday (really, is it not every day?  it feels like every day.) football remains our one steadfast reminder that yes, indeed it is fall.  somewhere.

as i mentioned, i have really embraced unemployment and possibly overbooked the kids and i with all our activities.  we have so many classes every week that i'm starting to get them mixed up and showing up at the wrong times!  i am still running with my group and doing cross country when the stars align and i can get away for most of a saturday.  the kids have picked out their first pumpkins, the initial step in what's slated to be a packed first halloween for them, and bean just went to her first birthday party.

so, gymnastics, school, music class, playdates, running club and book club have been keeping us plenty busy.  i am somewhat sorry to say my rn license did come in the mail a few weeks ago, so wheels are just getting in motion to try and find a job and childcare, but really, *just* getting in motion.  i'm not moving too fast on it.  clearly, we have plenty going on!  which brings me to my next point (and where you should duck out if you're not interested in serious craft talk):

i mentioned briefly in my last post that i've been able to do some serious crafting in my "downtime" (my usual 3 kid-free hours/24 hours continues to be cut in half by a stubborn gentleman's REFUSAL to nap).  i planned to do a post devoted to some of my diy once i completed a few more projects around the house (still underway).  however, while creating for your personal space is fun and rewarding, few things are quite as enjoyable as making children's clothing.  you all know of my passion for knitting, and for my birthday this year, now that we have the space, i finally got a sewing machine.  so i've gone from borderline obsession with baby clothes to actual obsession.  so cute!  so small!  so gratifying!  i can't help it.

people ask me how i learned to knit, and i hope one day i will be a competent enough sewer that they wonder the same.  in both cases, i had some exposure in my childhood watching my grandma and learning some basics from her (as much as a 6 year old can), and then went back as an adult and read books/ watched videos/ followed tutorials.  there is SO much out there on the internet now, you can really learn anything eventually with minimal formal instruction.  i am going about sewing as i did knitting, seeking out stepwise, gradually more difficult projects to acquire new skills slowly but surely.

in addition to instructional sites, there's an entire universe out there, the craftblogosphere, where legions of young moms make amazing, beautiful clothing for their children and blog about it.  i believe there exists within all of us a desire to create, and those of us who have children appreciate the lavish manifestation of love we can bestow with homemade wear, not to mention the great stress relief crafting offers.  our children look cute, yes, but i doubt any of us deny that these items are as much gifts to us who create them as to those who don them.

we are more connected each day through social media (much of which i don't even know how to harness...pin?  tweet?  what?), and ideas and inspiration spread like crazy.  i drool over all this eye candy and wish that sewing was as easy as knitting (it's not), or at least that my skills and knowledge could be matched, because there's SO MUCH TO MAKE.  i find that many knitters don't sew, and many sewers don't knit though, so i'm excited to be bridging the gap little by little.

anyway, as i became a cyber admirer of rae, dana, and most recently gail to name a few, i came across the kids clothing week challenge (kcwc) on another crafty mom blog.  you can click the button to read all about it, but basically, twice a year for a week hundreds of people (i imagine largely women) pledge to spend an hour a day for seven days making clothing in some regard for their (or other people's) kids. sewing is a clear winner here, since knitting and crocheting might require  many more hours to finish a single project.  

certainly i wouldn't be chastised for not keeping up with the gang, but i was nervous to commit because this week is even busier for us than normal, but i definitely find an hour to craft every day no matter what, and i'm excited to focus all that attention on kids' clothing.  just like committing to a year of handmade gifts, somehow just making that commitment to yourself inspires a lot of creativity, which is really exciting.  then we all post photos of our projects on a flickr pool an cheer each other along through our projects.  social support and handmade clothing, how retro.

my sister was in town the first three days of this challenge, and i felt guilty enough crafting let alone blogging about it.  so, my projects will come a little out of order, but i do plan to post on a project for each day of this week!  it will pollute the family blog a bit, but until i figure out the best way to organize all these ventures, this is the best place i have to put it all.  sorry!

and so, on kcwc day 3, i present to you a birthday present for baby sydney!  not even for my kids, i know, but it is children's clothing, and i did already challenge myself to a year of handmade gifts, and her first birthday is this saturday.  too convenient to pass up.  the skirt was fully constructed today and its' fabric i ordered 100 years ago so i have no idea what it is and i'm sure it's no longer in print.  if you can sew a relatively straight line, you can make a simple skirt, even a layered one.  you can find a great tutorial here.  no pattern necessary.

the sweater is a seamless raglan with offset closure (as in, it's off center on purpose :) ), picot collar, garter button band and moss stitch detailing.  thanks to elizabeth zimmerman, i have been designing my own sweater patterns because i really love seamless raglan construction. as a result, i have been exploring how much fun knit/purl combinations can be (i am not skilled enough to incorporate more complex designs into seamless patterns!).  i used acrylic blend (read, machine washable) yarn from michaels, which i try to do when knitting for kids/babies.  please email me or leave a comment if you'd like to make this sweater and i can write out a pattern for you.

anyhow, my future kcwc posts will not be so in depth in their description or construction!  you can definitely expect to see reversible baby pants and fall jackets since i have those completed, and for the other four days i'm aiming for:

-upcycled mom to kid pants for both kids

-a fall outfit for bean

-fall pants for reese (might get the shaft since i don't even have an inkling of an idea)

ambitious for sure...check back to see what i get around to!

we are home.

oh dear, it has been quite awhile.  after the scarring trauma of posting a blog on a dinosaur pc, i could not bring myself to repeat the herculean effort, even at a juncture where my role as historian has perhaps never been so vital.  in the time it took me to finally lay my beloved macbook to rest and replace it with this sleek silver bullet (christmas came early this year!), transfer all my files and photos back over, and get semi-comfortable using this pretty little thing, we have totally skipped recording the settling in phase and have moved right along into being settled.  

sure, boxes are unpacked, some pictures are hung, windows mostly have blinds, houseplants have been replaced.  honestly, most of that occurred within two weeks of our arrival.  true "settling in" is more an emotional than physical process, an integration into the community, a comfort and ease with everyday life and surroundings.  i'd say we more or less have that.  i'm not much one for gushing or any overtly emotional response as it tends to damage credibility.  but in the aftermatherw of the monster decision-cum-action to relocate several thousand miles from everything that has ever meant anything, allow me to sigh deeply, dab my brow, and say, we done good.  we love it here.

before the kids arrived, in rare moments when we came up for air from all the unpacking and organizing, life felt very empty and strange without them.  we are so grounded in their routines, even being away from them for a day can make us feel a little loopy.  i knew life would be different in davis, but the first day they arrived here, i felt gripped with legitimate fear.  confused and jetlagged, both of them whined and cried and grabbed at me ferociously.  knowing david had a stay-at-home safety net and would return to work soon, i broke out into a cold sweat without the same comfort (it's possible i suffer from ptsd after rearing those two chimpanzees in chicago).  i made a mental note to put the job search at the top of my priority list and told myself to get my sh*t together and remember how to parent.

and then, something miraculous, several things really, happened.  my job search indefinitely halted while i await my california license, little by little, the kids and i began to define a new routine after dad went back to work.  and i found, in the most wonderful possible way, that nothing is the same.  it's amazing what a little space, the ability to separate ourselves by more than ten feet at any given moment, can do. 

at first, we didn't venture far from home, because we don't have to.  we all have our own bedrooms now.  we all see and hear a little less of each other during the day, and more importantly, overnight.  in the morning, we reunite for the day.  instead of kicking and screaming about changing diapers, brushing teeth, and changing clothes, if anyone disagrees with my suggestions, i simply say "alright, i'm going downstairs.  when you're ready to _______, come and get me."  works like a charm within 30 seconds.  you may recall our previous living/play space, where that trick was not an option:

i think my lap takes up 40% of it.

here is our new space the day we moved in:

which quickly turned into this:

more than one person has seen this room and asked me if i run a daycare.  this room is advertised as the formal living/dining room.  seeing as we're not very formal and lack any furniture or personality traits to suggest otherwise, we decided instead to make the center of our home a children's wonderland.  much [perceived] success in parenting in these early years is about creating an environment appropriate for them to explore.  you cannot stop a toddler from grabbing, pulling, tearing, climbing, tumbling, throwing, swinging, rolling and generally destroying, so you can either experience constant stress trying to prevent life-threatening injury and almost certainly be the focal point of astounding and bottomless rage, or you can go with the flow.  fancy decor we have not, but i daresay two happy, independent, quiet, sharing, loving little babies who won't spend their entire childhood marginalized in some corner of the house or constantly hearing NO is well worth that sacrifice.

so, the kids have ample space to roam freely and safely within the house, allowing the adults to slink away undetected and do things like...cook.  clean.  rest.  read a book.  not in the same way as one without children might, but these were sheer impossibilities, or so we thought before, with two of them.  no more crying.  NO MORE CRYING.  days, plural, pass without the faintest suggestion of disdain on the part of TWO TODDLERS.  what alternate universe are we living in?

so, that is the indoors.  the true novelty of living in davis, however, is the outdoors.  the temperature is a predictable bell curve throughout the day, with cool mornings and evenings, dry air, and no clouds.  we have a backyard.  a completely fenced in, grassy area that currently has no plants or animal feces.  there is a space connected to my home to which i can open a door, shuffle out two babies who really make it their goal to find peril in any and every situation, lie in the middle of the grass, close my eyes, and know that very little harm can befall them.

but why would we dilly dally in the backyard when our entire neighborhood, and in some ways this entire city, is an oversized park?  we're isolated from any remotely busy streets by blocks.  no more navigating crowded spaces with a monster stroller, these kids walk everywhere.  we're trying to teach them to watch for cars, and they think it's a game, because there are no cars.  our street is full of families with children between 1-7.  nobody drives fast, toys are common property, and we often find each other's children at neighboring homes.  we even had a block party for labor day.  yes, those still exist.  so do little plastic yellow boys proclaiming "children at play."  many evenings we all congregate around a common driveway and watch the kids take over the block while we chat and sip wine.  we genuinely enjoy their company.


three houses down from us, we enter the greenbelt, where truly, not coincidentally, there are no cars.  100 yards later we hit the first of hundreds of parks.  100 yards after that, we hit a nature area where we look for wild animals.  when bean first saw a hawk overhead, she called it an airplane.  she never saw a soaring bird.  now she could differentiate a redtail hawk from a turkey buzzard and the call of an owl, a crow, a jay.  she knows the coastal oak, the valley oak, poison oak, the phases of the moon, and how to choose ripe fruits and vegetables.  they can climb, hang, step and leap in ways they never could before (and have the scabs, bruises and bumps to prove it).  requests have changed from, "i wanna turn on the tv" to "let's go to the bridge and look for animals."  or, "let's go hiking."

whereas in chicago, having children felt remarkably isolating, here i'm not sure how i would meet people without them.  everywhere we go, everything we do, is family friendly.  the town is overrun by parents who love raising children.  bean might wander up to some children, or reese might hoard peaches from a random stroller, and a new friendship is born.  at the library, at the market, at the store, we are constantly meeting people, making playdates, sharing meals.  everyone is approachable, unassuming, inviting.

and in chicago, the weather, our location, and the kids' age kept us inside many months of the year.  sometimes days would pass before we left our 800 sq ft living space because it was too hot, too cold, or because one of the three of us didn't have the fortitude to deal with the crowds, the filth, the panhandlers, the passive aggressive yuppie moms, the flat out weirdos, the tantrums.  i was once spit on by a biker on my way to the post office mere blocks from our home because he had a categorical bias against double strollers.  true story.  i know that's why he did it, because i was so shocked i had to ask.  any outing, even to the park visible from our building, required planning, preparation and packing as though we were leaving for a week.  the ability to just walk out the front door and go without doing more than a quick slather of sunscreen provides a liberation that's impossible to describe.

obviously, we have plenty to keep us busy right here at home.  however, seeing as i was unintentionally and quite fortuitously relegated to stay-at-home momhood, i decided to embrace the rare opportunity, and really take advantage of what the community has to offer while i can.  through the city, the kids both take gymnastics classes and a preschool class with my supervision.  wednesday evenings and saturday mornings we shop at the farmer's market and have a picnic (this was a rather unenjoyable, whole day affair that we attempted roughly 3x in chicago).  the kids go nuts for the amazing fruit here.  tuesday, thursday, and saturday i run with the local running group, often traveling to different areas in northern california for races.  once a month i have book club.  we go to stores.  we go to restaurants.  and i can do all of this solo, an opportunity never before afforded.  there is an unwritten 1:1 adult:toddler ratio in a big city.  each day that my license doesn't arrive in the mail, i'm relieved.  we are having the time of our lives.

the kids at "school"

bean and i at our respective races.

we haven't even scratched the surface of what davis has to offer, but the geographical location lends itself to day trips, a large consideration in moving here.  if david has a day off, we can say things like, hey, why don't we have dinner tonight in napa?  or, let's spend the afternoon walking around berkeley with the kids.  slightly less last-minute are our family hiking trips to the likes of muir woods and lake tahoe.  we finally broke out the backpacks that sat untouched in our chicago apartment and can take easy family adventures to places that people trek from around the globe to see.  in chicago, it was mass pandemonium trying to travel six miles to the lincoln park zoo.

in my free time (which was more ample before reese quit napping three weeks ago, an ongoing debate between us), i've been enjoying getting to know my new sewing machine, working on projects for the house and further expanding my love of designing and making children's clothing.  i'm in the middle of a few projects, so pictures will have to wait for the next post.  i've been able to do a fair amount of cooking and canning as well, which will be very exciting once berries and stone fruit finally stops growing here...for now, still going strong.  strawberries in september, imagine!

david too has been enjoying our new lifestyle.  his shifts are 9 hours with 2 hours at the end to document, if needed.  and he works about 4-5 shifts fewer a month, which translates into much more time at home than it sounds like.  he loves the group he works with, a substantial amount of whom also live in davis.  again, everyone seems to have kids our age and eager to reach out and make us feel at home.  he has been dividing his free time between running with my group and easing into the serious bicycle culture here.  i would write more about it, but perhaps he can do it more justice in a future guest post...?

it's plain to see our overall quality of life has multiplied exponentially here.  all four of us can accomplish more, and enjoy each other's company more than we ever imagined.  i do have to credit the kids' development a little bit--reese came back from michigan walking, talking, and with a mouthful of teeth.  bean's language and comprehension has blossomed into the most interesting, entertaining expressed perspective on life.  the introduction of the word yes, (just as reese is becoming fluent in NO), and "i can do it!" has revolutionized her attitude.  she is sensitive and astute, and when she senses frustration, she says, "are you happy, mama?"  she uses proper pronouns, conjugates verbs, and has hilarious conversations with reese (e.g. no reesey, do NOT play with that, that is mine, ok?  here, play with this one.).  she connects thoughts and phrases, like, "i'm thirsty, i want some water, over there, the orange cup on the counter."  or, "reese doesn't want to read the book right now, he said no."  and she sings all the time, and her first race has given her a real taste for running.

i am so used to having a baby every may, i find myself pausing to appreciate that if you stop having babies, your babies grow up.  you can sleep eight hours at night.  you can wash your hair.  you can go places without a baby strapped to your chest.  you can stop flashing your boobs in public constantly.  you can sometimes not wear filthy clothing.  you can have moments, although fleeting, of solitude.  and more importantly, you can watch them grow into amazing little children.

so, what else is there to say, other than that we're so thrilled to be here?  we've had no shortage of visitors already, all of whom we've put to work (as it turns out, even new houses require a lot of that) on helping us clean, paint, build, move, and install our way into our new home. 

it's so lovely, and so comfortable, and has a bird-themed guest suite (my foray into interior design...) just waiting to welcome you.  so, when are you coming?

hello, goodbye.

note:  the text of this blog was completed two weeks ago, but some difficulties getting our internet up and running and the death of my beloved mac notebook just weeks shy of its seventh birthday prevented a more timely post (yes, i do back up!).  i apologize for the lack of pictures, varying text sizes and weird formatting--i'm apparently not pc compatible.  once we get our technology in order, we will be back with more news and pictures of our new home.
**********



view from our balcony, the final morning

 we're still very much in the throes of our big move, but now seems as good a time as any to touch base.  life is so full of goodbyes, but i seem not to get much better at them in spite of all the practice.  the first goodbyes began back in june, to david's and my coworkers.  while i cannot fully speak on behalf of david, i know he felt a great deal of nostalgia throughout this process and has commented many times about how much he will miss his class.  i can however speak fully on my own behalf, and i have to say, leaving my coworkers was heartbreaking.

nursing is an extraordinary career, so full of emotional and physical challenges we must harden ourselves with dark wit and sarcasm to withstand the constant anguish and sorrow that accompanies most patients throughout their stay.  i have seen the strain and even collapse of units where individuals refuse to support one another, but i was truly blessed to land on a unit where i could not only survive, but learn, grow, and thrive under the watchful guidance and hearty backing of all my colleagues.  within my first week of employment, i told david i'd been "adopted" by my unit, a term that turned out to be exceptionally accurate since these people quickly became my second family.  they saw me through so many mistakes, so many triumphs, and day after day with their constant reassurance, they shaped my reason and ability into the nurse i am today.  

i met so many wonderful friends through work, with relationships that extend far beyond the walls of our hospital.  i was so touched and flattered by the lovely goodbye wishes they sent me along with.  after many lunch parties, post-shift beers, a surprise party and even a choreographed musical number in my honor, it was time to bid farewell to this special group who have left such an impression on my burgeoning career.  i can only hope to find a group a fraction as delightful as those i have left behind.  i will miss you all more than you know.



north street beach

 next, we said goodbye to life in chicago.  with our departure for west virginia, the kids walked out of what has been their only home for the last time.  while it's true that reese slept in a bathroom, our entire waking existence took place in one small living room and our couch and tv resultantly took a major beating, not to mention the countless stubbed toes, bruised shins, and all out trip-and-falls (and that's just the adults) that occur when too much stuff meets not enough space with a healthy dose of sleep deprivation thrown in, that tiny high rise apartment was very much our home.  

as much as i scorned living there as my infants grew into toddlers, within those four walls i brought home two babies, watched them smile and roll over, sit, stand, walk and play for the first time.  we developed eating and sleeping and playing rituals centered around that space.  though we'd return to chicago without them to pack, i knew once they left it would never feel the same.  as we packaged our lives as neatly as possible into boxes, we stacked them inside bean's now-empty room against her window that played such a crucial role in her young life.  at that very window, she learned to gesture, then grunt, then utter words and form sentences.  

she went from silently jamming her pudgy finger into the glass to "look, two trains, mama!  big red truck and bicycle, mama!"  it was a window we opened at the start of each morning to greet the world, and closed each night to end the day.  she spent hours looking out that window, describing the bustling world below her to me and reese.  when her room was empty of boxes and belongings, i washed all those finger prints and crayon marks off for the first time ever, totally erasing our memory, turning our home back into an empty space for the next tenants to transform.  how strange to think they will never know the joys and the struggles that took place between those walls.

12th street beach at northerly island

after two very long and productive days of sorting and packing our life, it was time to say a proper goodbye to chicago, our home for the past three years of our lives.  because of circumstance, we did so little in these years to appreciate the actual city itself.  however, any place you live and work and raise children in will have a way of getting under your skin and becoming home.  with only one day to say goodbye, we first had to think of our favorite part of the city and start there, which is hands down the lakeshore.  one of the few but notable perks of our neighborhood is proximity to the lakeshore, where i spent most of my alone time on extended runs, as well as frequent trips to the beach with the kids.  

after relocating to my sister's house, we made our way to the beach i used as my turnaround point on long runs, the beach david and i came to on our first trip in chicago long before we were even engaged, to do some reading and day drinking.  from there, we walked four leisurely miles along the shoreline, stopping for snacks and dips along the way, back to our apartment to check on our cats.  that evening we devoted to our other favorite part of chicago, our friends.  we were flattered by the turnout at our last minute gathering at a favorite bar.  and after that, it finally started to feel real that we'd be leaving the life we'd pieced together as best we could, which had turned into something wonderful.

castaways at north st beach



lakefront trail, southward view of the skyline

 
the next morning we headed by train back to michigan to reunite with the kids briefly and say goodbye to northern michigan, where i spent many winters and summers growing up.  it was the first time we'd been able to bring the kids, and we took full advantage of the ample outdoor space, playing hide and seek in the yard, chalking the driveway, and daily visits to lake charlevoix just across the street.  we were thrilled to host my friend and coworker nina, who spent many of her days off commuting to the city, muffins in tow, to spend her free time helping me with the kids, who truly adore her (bean even renamed one of her dolls nina).  the crowning achievement of any mother's helper is to spend a weekend at the family beach house, and so, nina topped off her career doing just that.  we were so happy to have her there.



willow on the bank of lake charlevoix



backyard at boyne

we moved out of chicago exactly as we moved in, crashing at my sister's house as she and her husband bestowed their generosity upon us, taking us for a final vegetarian feast in the sweltering chicago heat.  with no babies around, it felt less like three years had passed than three weeks.  it all felt so familiar despite all that has changed, the completion of residency and nursing school, the birth and life of our children, and my sister now with twins on the way (!).  we woke at dawn to gather our cats and lock our keys inside our apartment.  i took ample mental snapshots as we exited our building for the last time, took our final walk across roosevelt and awaited our last el train.

since stepping foot in northern california, i haven't been able to detect a single similarity to the midwest.  the sacramento airport is full of wine bars and bistros rather than fast food.  the air is crisp and clean, with the smell of fog and trees.  i won't go into the stink of chicago but to say that the only time it's tolerable is if you're walking past a bakery.  the familiar skyline, the sears, trump and hancock towers, the stunning architecture that announced to me each night after work, "you are home again," is all just a memory now replaced with towering rolling hills covered in yellow grass and patches of towering live oaks.

for as long as i can remember, i have dreamed of moving to northern california, before i met david or it became a real possibility.  i can't really explain why, considering i could count on two hands the days i've spent here, more than half of those after the decision was already made.  wherever my impressions and images and beliefs about this place were conjured, i can't honestly explain.  but it has beckoned me for decades with promises of majestic land and sea, of fertile earth and like minded people, anything and everything beautiful this continent has to offer.

carmel

tomales point

big sur

and now that i am here, i find myself cowering in the wake of making a decision so final that is so much bigger than me.  there is a certain amount of pressure that comes with uprooting your entire family and moving it clear across the country to a place nobody knows or is even close to, that now i will grow old in a place i'd spent all of 5 days in because i wanted, not had to.  it all seemed so right on paper, david's lifelong intent to get back to california and thus my green light to do the same, three years in the city showing me what a country mouse i really am, reinforcing our desire to raise our family in a college town, with many big city perks (dining, culture, diversity, music) without much of what made chicago so hard (expense, lack of space, poor public schooling, crime, filth).  we picked a perfect microcosm in the universe, with seemingly everything we want now, and will want as we and our children grow.

big sur

clinging to what is familiar, i have taken a few runs around town.  the air is dry, so even in the sweltering summer, it stays cool into late morning and again late in the evening.  the streets are so wide, with spacious bike lanes and doubly wide sidewalks.  i've never seen anything like that, even growing up in the suburbs.  our own street is teeming with smiling neighbors with young children and dogs of their own.  you can traverse all of davis 20 times over without ever crossing a street thanks to the complex network of bike paths.  you can't walk more than 50 yards without running into a park.  there is so much green, so much space, so many playgrounds.  in the fields surrounding our home we see hawks, owls and jackrabbits.  the streets are lined by towering trees.  i had forgotten how many stars there were in the sky.  

tule elk on tomales point trail

the kind of life that we want will be so easy here.  hard, perhaps, to avoid.  how can it be everything we'd imagined, yet still feel so unfamiliar and strange?  when we join the rest of the city at the farmer's market  with the organic produce and parks and carousel, with so many children running and playing, the eclectic collection of ethnic restaurants on charming downtown streets, when we take a short drive to the coast and every turn is a new vista that takes my breath away, when i hike along the pacific coast and i stumble upon 30 slumbering tule elk and am humbled by how small i am, the vastness, the silence, it all resonates with me much more deeply than any city ever could, and i say to myself, yes, you've come to the right place. but for now, those moments merely punctuate a feeling of not belonging, of isolation, of yearning for lake michigan shoreline, the spires of the sears tower blinking outside my window, the sound of the el running beneath us.

tomales bay



big sur



 

finally coming into all we have worked for and planned for, all we have anticipated, only serves to emphasize just what we sacrificed to get here.  the kids are learning to sleep in their new rooms, to play in their neighborhood unencumbered by strollers, now both walking and talking, exploring with more boldness each day what will soon be all they understand or remember.  i know that we too will gain mastery of this life, that i will not always be so literally and figuratively lost in my surroundings, that we will soon develop new routines, traditions, and comforts.  but we lack their blessed youthful memory, and it is not so easy to erase the recollection of what came before, or that while what we left behind feels like such a massive piece of us is missing, it goes on as though we were never there.

so, another goodbye has come and gone.  as goodbyes go, we miss what we know we will miss, and also so much that we never realized we would.  we continue to unpack, to settle, and to wait for the time when we feel ready to say hello.