inflated

A while had passed since any kind of tranquility preoccupied my being.

Distressed nerve endings and ceaseless problems inhabited our home for five months straight, with no end in sight —

We struggled to maintain structure and lost all sense of aspiration to move onwards. Complications overtook every corner of our belongings. Furniture and carpets and dishes and cursed doors merged into one blur that cannot even be outlined.

All attempts to progress, to create stability, to be proactive; all actions required to get out of this house, vanished. And so stagnation arose.

This obtuse yearning for stasis suddenly became apparent when we truly realized how unhealthy our living conditions were, and how rapid winter was approaching. Even considering possible outcomes of what immense amounts of snow could do to us became unbearable. Our forced gas heating system was boisterous and emitted the worst case of second hand smoke, which is a habit neither of us participate in.

Our driveway was a hill: it collapsed immediately after turning into it. You had to travel cautiously down and hold deep confidence that a tire (or two) wouldn’t blow out, possibly resulting in your car to swerve straight into the forest behind. Picture this process in reverse, but covered with unsalted concrete during a New England snow storm. ew.

The nineteen hundred Georgian Colonial contained its original flooring: cracked, swollen, and inhabited by carpenter creatures. Soft spots advanced profusely throughout our bedroom, and eventually welcomed itself into our parlor. More than half of our windows couldn’t open, and the only way to close the front door was to slam it until compact. Even then you had to pull it in your direction to get the deadbolt to navigate swiftly through its course. Remember that instability I discussed? It was literal.

So, the hunt began. Slow at first, rigid and complicated and eerie and intimidating. Dan was enrolled in his fall semester and I was working six day work weeks to get out of the house and to justify my savings account, if and when the time came for us to leave.

Surely enough, though, it did.

The weekend before moving we took a trip north to visit Dan’s father in Vermont.

It was the weekend right after Thanksgiving, so the two day venture became a celebration of how lucky and thankful we were for finding a second location so quick. His father just recently moved as well, so it was a double celebration for both parties. After multiple replicated meals, we discussed our matters with his dad and he listened patiently. I can tell he is proud of Dan.

It has become so customary for me to hear and block out tractor trailers, pedestrians, and police sirens, that diving head first into complete silence was foreign and blissful. The unconscious noise block-out emerged from its nap and I was able to hear all of the stillness clearly.

His father’s wooden cottage resides on a hillside, and sleeps tight at a comfortable distance from all other residences. There was nothing to escape to at all.

But the woods and its secrecy helped create an equilibrium for my cosmos. We were three days away from completely changing our perspectives and it was something that needed to be discussed, needed to be released. We played in the first snow of the year, read our books softly, and enjoyed the new found love that was being liberated from the warmth of the wood burning stove. A shift was approaching, we felt it thoroughly.

Dan and I said goodbye to the snowy hills and drifted downwards to fade back into reality, and to pack our inanimate assets into oversized boxes.

We were preparing for this move for about three weeks - crates and bins and messes swept every room loudly.

It wasn’t a comfortable time, but neither was living there even under an organized circumstance. At least this mess guaranteed a sincere amount of hope for better beginnings.

The day came, and it went, and we had the loveliest help from both sides of the family. Dinner dates with Dan’s mother and soup delivery visitations from my dad filled our first week of situating. We finally went grocery shopping, did an amazing job, and have been full every day since. The floors have since been cleaned: objects are finding their way home, too. Our walls are still cold and exposed, but hopefully we can paint them gloriously with clear distinction that we live here: movie posters, local prints, and love.

Sitting here in this warmth, surrounded by convenience and what feels like an unimaginably luxurious residency: seventeen days in looks alluring. These delicate days leading up to Christmas and New Years Eve feel so elegant, so pronounced.

Dan and I are living — and our shared space finally feels like a home.