It’s been an age.
I’ve been head deep in our new home. The new sense of place. The new peace. The new kitten. New people. New job.
Textiles have been super hard to focus on. I took an emotional hit on that for a while, but after much thought I’ve come to understand that’s ok, because changes like this don’t come but a few times in a lifetime, and I deserve to let our new life here take up all my mental bandwidth, to enjoy it and experience it fully.
And truly, being in Chico is just glorious. For the first time in twenty years, I feel like I’m in the right climate. Even when it’s 107 degrees outside and I’m sheltering in place. The weight of the air, the layers of scent as I move through space, the angle and color of the light, they’re all right.
I found a job last April. It’s not something I would have looked for, but it came my way. The people are super, the bosses are fantastic, the benefits are great. I’m working sometimes full-time and sometimes part-time for the next few months, which will segue into all-the-time full-time this Fall. Down payments will be saved. Employment history will be established. Mortgage lenders will be consulted.
It’s weird how this is a dream that actually seems to be coming true. That hasn’t happened to me before. It certainly wasn’t my dream to fight alcoholism in my twenties, recover in my thirties, and entirely miss my chance to have children on the way to my forties.
But I’ve had a dream of a room of my own for years, literally. I dream about it at night, dreams pregnant with possibility, heavy with peace, marked by striking quiet, twining bougainvillea and jasmine. When I wake up from them, I yearn for them.
Since we moved to Chico, I have more of that dream landscape in the reality of my life. It now includes Chunk Marvelle, the world’s best cat ever, and Matthew Marvelle, my blue-eyed dreamboat, my moral compass, my darling.
I’m enjoying super-nice neighbors who regularly invite us over for dinner and a splash in the pool with neighborhood families, neighbors who show up on our doorstep with their fresh-grown grapefruit in a wooden crate, or backyard basil in a mason jar. I’m enjoying seeing my sister so much that when we spend time together we can actually focus on what’s going on at the moment instead of chattering like mad hens trying to make up for all the time apart. I’m enjoying riding my bike to work, and then to Bidwell Park for a picnic snack of pie and figs and a dip in the river before coming home. It’s kind of no wonder I haven’t popped in here in a dog’s age. I’m living outside of my head for the first time in years.
In the textile world, I did actually finish the weaving I’ve been working on. It’s eight feet long, and joyous. I collected some horse poop for some Turkey Red dye I’d like to try. The yellow dock is ripe for harvest. And we shall see.