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The house is empty.
Last weekend we went into the city to pick mom up from the airport, so that weekend was away from home and busy. Then there was the greater part of a week with mom here and sometimes Tucker. During that time the house was busy: mom was in the livingroom teaching a pilates class at 7:30 every morning, we took apart the downstairs and put in some shelves and sorted many things into labelled boxes on the shelves and put down vinyl tile in the downstairs bathroom and emptied a bunch of yoghurt containers and just generally, even when I was at work on my laptop, something was going on. Meanwhile at work my employer is majorly restructuring into multiple units and A & E were viewing a place on Vancouver Island for us all to share and I was scrambling to find feed and get out seed wish fairies and trades. Even when the house was almost-quiet, when mom was writing or hanging out in another room, my attention was more than fully taken up.
Mom left this morning. Tucker started his new job this week. A & E put an offer on the place they viewed (!) and now it's waiting time. Work has given us the larger structure but not operationalized it yet or started posting jobs.
There's a space, a silence. The house is even visually quieter with more things on shelves and fewer things in piles.
I had been settling into some spring routines and those were disrupted and have yet to come back. There's a space where habit used to be. There's a space where planning the next five years in this home used to be.
It's very slightly unsettling but it's not bad. Threshold is inviting me into her liminal spaces, she's pulling me out of the abstract and into the present she's pulling me out of the concrete and into this... space. We're here together.
Even my breathing is silent.
Last weekend we went into the city to pick mom up from the airport, so that weekend was away from home and busy. Then there was the greater part of a week with mom here and sometimes Tucker. During that time the house was busy: mom was in the livingroom teaching a pilates class at 7:30 every morning, we took apart the downstairs and put in some shelves and sorted many things into labelled boxes on the shelves and put down vinyl tile in the downstairs bathroom and emptied a bunch of yoghurt containers and just generally, even when I was at work on my laptop, something was going on. Meanwhile at work my employer is majorly restructuring into multiple units and A & E were viewing a place on Vancouver Island for us all to share and I was scrambling to find feed and get out seed wish fairies and trades. Even when the house was almost-quiet, when mom was writing or hanging out in another room, my attention was more than fully taken up.
Mom left this morning. Tucker started his new job this week. A & E put an offer on the place they viewed (!) and now it's waiting time. Work has given us the larger structure but not operationalized it yet or started posting jobs.
There's a space, a silence. The house is even visually quieter with more things on shelves and fewer things in piles.
I had been settling into some spring routines and those were disrupted and have yet to come back. There's a space where habit used to be. There's a space where planning the next five years in this home used to be.
It's very slightly unsettling but it's not bad. Threshold is inviting me into her liminal spaces, she's pulling me out of the abstract and into the present she's pulling me out of the concrete and into this... space. We're here together.
Even my breathing is silent.
