Our Last September in this House Comes to an End

It's such a relief when September comes around. The change in the slant of the sunlight, the earlier evenings, the turning of the leaves. I always look forward to the first day of fall.

I invited the neighbors over for an Autumnal Equinox Party one of our first years here. I had such aspirations about being involved in my community! I am still very good friends with a neighbor down the street. Her daughter just left for college. We used to go for walks together every day, the newborn daughter swaddled in her moby wrap, Valerie holding their dog's leash, me waddling with Andrew in my belly. And I have grown ever closer to our elderly neighbors over the years--the thought of moving away from them breaks my heart. They are my parents' age and it has been so reassuring having them next door.

September 23rd is my late beloved Grandma's birthday, so a special day for me (and my sister and cousins). I don't think I'd be who I am today if it weren't for her. So, I celebrate her memory and feel so very grateful.

I felt extra sad walking to the river yesterday morning. I chatted with another neighbor on the way back about house prices and flood insurance. I so wish this could have been our forever home. House prices have doubled since we moved here.

I am busy with work all week, and sometimes with Andrew's sports or music events. Then the weekend comes and I feel so much anxiety looking at all I have to do. I feel ashamed for having so much clutter. But then I remind myself that I haven't had much help all these years. Hubby works 50-60 hour weeks and we have no family close. And I've been working since 2015. 

And raising my kids in this quiet little neighborhood in a little valley village, close to a river, and just inland from the sea. It's all that really matters.

(The photo is of a huge cactus patch down the street that bursts with brilliant ripening nopales this time of year.)

Our Last August in this House Comes to an End

August flew by, which isn't surprising because I went back to work on the 4th. Andrew started school on the 7th, and Val come home from her (incredible) summer internship on the 9th. 

It is not lost on me that this is, likely, the longest stretch of time we will all be together in this house again. If I weren't so busy, I'd be even more sad. Work has a way of occupying your time, and your mind. 

I didn't have a job when we moved here, besides caring for a two-year-old twenty-four, seven. I was so excited to be leaving the sprawl of unincorported San Diego for the quieter and cooler Central Coast. Hubby was going to be getting a nice paycheck, and I figured we'd buy a house within a few years. But that's hard to do when you don't have a down payment and prices keep going up.

So we stayed in our rental and celebrated holidays and milestones, taught the kids to ride bikes on our little street, sent them to elementary school up the hill, then six miles to middle school, twelve miles to high school. Val went to community college (seventeen miles)  and last year moved away to university (one hundred seventy-eight miles).

Now that it's Andrew's senior year, I have to pay extra attention to the school bulletin, and start attending PTO meetings again. There's a lot going on.

And the light is changing in our little neighborhood. The sun sets further west over the mountains, and a bit earlier. These seasonal changes always take me back to our first few years here, when everything still felt new. 

In another ten months, I'll be learning how to take these memories with me. I can't really imagine how that's going to be. To keep the panicky feelings at bay, I make sure to be present when the realization comes over me. 

That's exactly what prompted me to take the photo of our kitty looking out the window. It's my same view each morning while drinking my coffee and having some quiet time to myself before opening my laptop for work. I don't know what my window view will be in a year from now. I really like this one, and I think I'll miss it.

Our Last July in this House Comes to an End

We got a scare at the end of May. Nothing devastating, but huge in our lives, nonetheless. 

Andrew will be a senior in high school this year, so on May 28th, when our landlords told us we would need to move out soon, I cried. I had been dreading this possibility since the kids started school. It is notoriously difficult to find "affordable" housing where we live, and within our school district's boundaries. 

We have been renting our house for 19 years, which is a whole other post, but here we are, and not where I ever thought we'd be--Gen Xers who have never owned a home.

On July 2nd, our landlords agreed to our request to stay, with accommodations, and that we could live here for another year. I had been holding my breath all of June. I am grateful and relieved. And here we are.

I've been doing a bit of decluttering nearly each day of my summer break from my teaching job. The dates on papers at the bottom of piles are from 2018, the year I went back to work. Makes sense. In all honesty, I haven't filed anything since we moved here. Hubby did some filing about...15 years ago or so. I have boxes in various places throughout the house where I would typically put all the mail and documents I needed to save right before company came for Christmas each year, 2006-2017!

I have given myself such a hard time over the years for not being more organized. In fact, that was pretty much the theme of my first year or more of blogging. I am actually a very organized person, when I have the time and energy. I always tell my kids that they will be amazed at how nice and neat our house is someday. And we now have a timeline to that day because there is nothing like moving to force you to purge stuff and get organized (we moved several times before living in this house).

I hope hope hope our next move is into our own home. After the first of the year, we will start looking in earnest. 

~*~*~

So, that is the backstory to why I am writing a blog post after nearly 1.5 years. Each day since July 2nd, I have looked around and remarked that this is the last July we will be in this house. On my neighborhood walks, I have tried to memorize the morning mist on the hills, the early evening light through the trees, the smell of bay laurel, the trickle of the river.

I told a friend the other day that the past 21+ years since Valerie was born feel like an out-of-body experience. And 19 of them have been here. So much has happened! And so fast! I can't really wrap my head around it. I mean, part of these feelings are mid-life and menopause, but my brain also goes to other places: my Grandma in her 100s, Carl Sagan quotes, the "big questions" that Andrew and I used to discuss at bedtime when he was little--but not for too long because they were kind of scary. Indeed.

I thought I might like to chronicle this last year here. Maybe add a testament to the collective of my own experience with the transition from parenting teens to young adults. My own transition to...well, we'll see, won't we.

Thoughts on The Crown

What? I haven't posted anything in nearly two years? I guess I've been busy. Very, very busy. The hours needed for my job have increased exponentially. In addition, Andrew is busier than ever, and I am his ride--at least for a few more months. Then he'll get his license and I will spend all of my time worrying. Valerie started driving a couple of years ago, at 18. I do worry about her, but I guess I'm used to it now. I'm not sure what to think about that.

So, The Crown. I finished watching it this morning and I have thoughts. 

My dear Grandma wore her hair much like Queen Elizabeth II in her later years, though my Grandma dyed hers blonde until she was in her late 90s. So, I was reminded of her quite often while watching. But it wasn't just the hairdo. My Grandma was just thirteen years older than the queen. She had a lovely home built in 1948 and most of it looked the same when she died in 2017. She loved antiques, often found at second-hand shops, and decorated her home with mostly old furniture. Watching The Crown, stepping back in time, was kind of like visiting my Grandma's house, stepping back in time.

What I'm thinking about today is how looking at the life of Queen Elizabeth is a lot like looking at the life of many matriarchs, like my Grandma. I think in the 21st century, women are just beginning to really be seen.

We are all The Queen, we just wear different crowns.

War and Peace

Today Putin invaded Ukraine. My heart is heavy. I finally finished reading War and Peace in January, so Tolstoy's writing is not far from my mind. 

Published in 1869, War and Peace is an historical fiction that takes place during the time of Napoleon's 1812 Invasion of Russia. It is also an exploration of the problems with writing history and a philosophy of why men go to war. 

And here we are today. I feel a sense of foreboding similar to my memories of the 1980s Cold War era, yet so grateful for my good fortune to see a peaceful view outside my window rather than destruction.

Almost Halfway

Just a quick update on War and Peace. Still reading it, but almost halfway through. I'm on page 586 of 1350. I very much want to watch the mini series with James Norton and Lily James, so trying to read a bit each day.

I did not have to wear reading glasses when I started this book, but now I do. I got these Lulu Guinness frames at the optometrist's the last time I was there in April of 2019. I didn't *really* need them at the time because my vision was still better than 20/20. But I was noticing something was up and my insurance covered it, so why not. In the image, the color looks pink, but it's really red.

So this quick update turned into a digression on reading glasses. I have an optometrist appointment coming up soon and it will be depressing, I'm sure, but also--new specs! I want retro and green or blue or tortoiseshell. Now that I wear them during my Zoom meetings for work, might as well have a little fun!

Another Circle

Yep, still reading War and Peace. Last summer I also read Beatriz Williams' Her Last Flight. And I currently have her latest, Our Woman in Moscow, still in it's mailer in the entryway (along with a lot of other stuff).

Ideally, I should finish W&P first, right? I am on page 403 of 1308. And I looooooooove it. 

But honestly, my heart has broken so many times this past year--for reasons political, social, and personal--it's just been hard to concentrate.

And Tolstoy isn't going anywhere. Isn't that wonderful?