Sunday, September 03, 2017

This Blog and Being Nice

Up early and firing on all cylinders. Sitting in a hotel somewhere in Maryland, in my Guster Happy Frappé T-shirt and yoga pants, sucking down a giant 7-11 coffee, filling out online application forms.

We found a place that we're applying to (so many forms) and so I need dates.

Dates. So many dates.

How long have you worked here? How long did you work there? What dates did you live there here and anywhere? How old is your dog?

I am so incredibly thankful for this blog.

Without the blog, where I kept records of things, I would never have the move in date when we moved into the 1774 Colonial (that we lost, thanks Bank That Shall Not Be Named) and I would not know how old Brodie is. When did I start working at my current job, and which time did I start working there.

Doug has a great memory for dates but I'm usually always a year off, up or down.

And I keep get lost in reading the blog. Losing the house entries should have a trigger warning on them for me because they are so stressful to read.

I hate getting stressed out about things, especially things that I can't undo, and couldn't control. And I blogged honestly about losing my shit in the midst of moves, and I know that I can be a bitch sometimes when things push me over the top. Hopefully this move won't be anything like that. Fingers Crossed.

I have a record of Early Morning Geoff waking up on the first morning in the 1774 house looking for breakfast, and I now recall with vivid recollection taking him to the town coffee shop at 6 am to get donuts and coffee, since we didn't know where any of our food really was in all of the boxes.

And I also am reminded that in the midst of things that are stressful (like losing our house) I have done good things for people, for strangers. Like paying $13 to help a girl who was short on her family shopping. Having my son tell me that I'm the nicest person he knows. Pondering even back then how no one is nice to anyone, and how there really are no roles of niceness in so many young people's lives - I think that I've done my best to be honest and kind and nice, even when I am losing my shit over things.

I keep telling myself I need to write more frequently so I remember things. I don't think I have dementia or anything, I'm just not really cognizant of what dates are.

After 50 it's all a blur, right?

I haven't gotten nostalgic or misty or anything yet. But in looking back on the entry from three years ago when we were moving in the deep heat of August into our house I wrote:

The way I see it, and this is my mantra, "It's only two years. Two years from right now, right this very minute, we can move again if we want to. Anywhere in the country. Anywhere in the world. Anywhere."

Here are more dates and facts that cover the last three years. We will be moving before the end of September. We spent 3 years in our house with our happy wood stove. We lost 2 of 3 dogs while at that house, and one of the finest dogs that ever lived among those. We graduated a boy and made him an Eagle. We broke two snow blowers. We had coyotes in the woods behind the house that sing at night and sometimes wake us up from our sleep when the windows are wide open. We had the loveliest neighbors across the street in our good friends the Kellers. We had a farm stand and ice cream parlor next door - one of which I'll miss horribly. And I can't believe I didn't shop at the farm stand more frequently. John would give us a free Christmas tree because I maintained the town Facebook page as a volunteer admin and he said it was a job that he didn't relish, so he admired me for doing it (again a nice thing that I do?) I will miss our library not for the books but for the Pokestop for Pokemon Go! And Team Valor will have a hard time maintaining the four Gyms in town without me and Doug running out in the middle of the night to kick Instinct out. Jess will have to drive over and take care of keeping things in order.

And here we are. More than two years later but. Here we are.

And. Here I am, in Maryland, a whole brave new world where I don't know hardly anyone, and I have to admit it is cool and somewhat terrifying because I don't know if anyone will be nice. Or if yet again, I'm going to be the only nice person my son knows.

We shall see.

No comments:

Post a Comment