Tag Archives: feelings

Back Among the Living

The Little Barn

The Little Barn

It’s been quite a summer, this summer of 2013.  I have a new shed dubbed the “Little Barn”.  I have pints and pints of pickles and dilly beans in the cupboard.  The garden is lush and producing as much as we can eat and I can process.  I spent a week on the coast of Maine with my new husband (oh ya – I got married…) and another week with my sister in the Maine woods.  I am officially retired or “re-focusing my life”.  It’s amazing what a bout with cancer will do to shake things up.

I was diagnosed with ovarian cancer last November.  Had surgery, 6 months of chemo and that, thank you very much, is enough of that, for now.  So – in case you were wondering where I have been – there you go.

I’m not sure where my writing will be taking me.  I am jumping in today with the first post in a long time because honestly, it’s too cold outside right now to pick the basil.  No promises here – just day by day.

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After the election – Sleeping with the (political) Enemy

The morning after the election there were no high-fives in my house; no tearful hugs, no shared feelings of either elation or defeat.  Instead there were consolatory foot rubs, a decided absence of gloating and a tiny bit of tip-toeing until we figured out exactly how high emotions were running.

Like Shiela Heen who wrote “Sleeping with the (Political) Enemy” for the New York Times earlier this week, the love in my life sits on the opposite side of the political see-saw.  Our first forays into political conversations were polite affairs – each of us patiently listening to the other side, trying hard to understand how this person who we loved, who we respected, who was quickly becoming an integral part of our life; how this person could hold such a different view of the world than our own.

This polite conversation eventually turned into heated discussion, and if I am honest, some arguments, hurt feelings, a good amount of posturing and a decided lack of polite listening.  This was all new to me.

Political discussions before this lovely man walked into my life had been with my friends who sit on the same side of the political aisle as I do.  We mostly talked about how important it was that our candidate won, how the “other side” was obstinate, wouldn’t compromise and so on.  I listened and read media that slanted in my direction.  I filled my time and my head with a world of people who agreed with me.

Ms. Heen wrote “When you marry across the divide, you have to give up things that provide the like-minded self-satisfied comfort. As tempting as it is, we can’t demonize those on the other side as idiots who are out of touch, because they’re liable to reach out across the dinner table to touch you (and rather sharply).”

Funny thing, my sweetie walks on the same side of the political aisle as most of my family.  I’ve learned to deal with them by never bringing up politics and by smiling and holding my tongue if someone insists on putting it on the table.

Like Ms. Heen, my partner and I are “closely aligned at the foundation by love, continued attraction, and from sharing the weight of that gift bag of irritations that comes with any modern marriage. But we continue to part company on most pages of the party-political catalog of how-best-to’s and should-or-shouldn’t-be-able-to’s.”  We agree that there are problems that need to be solved.  We just don’t agree on the best way to get there.

So how is it going?  Sometimes we agree not to talk about it.  Sometimes we can’t help ourselves. It is during those times that I try to remember our common ground and to listen carefully and keep my voice calm.  We most likely will never agree on some basic ideas but we can remember that this is the person that we love and that they deserve our respect and our acceptance.

The election is over.  New officials will take their place at the table to converse and compromise.  They will try to fix the economy, create new jobs and take care of our planet.  I hope that they can remember the common ground; that they can accept and respect their differences and work together to find solutions even though they will never agree.

The Anticipation SeeSaw

Our living room is covered with clothing, camping equipment and the necessities of dorm life – a coffee cup, desk lamp, sheets and a few precious mementos.  Books are waiting to be packed.  There is chaos elsewhere.

My son is getting ready for the big move.  This is the one that often leads to visiting home rather than coming home.  This is where the word itself, “home”, starts to be confusing.  Is it “where I grew up”, or “where I spend the most time” or “where I feel most comfortable”?   Is home the family I was given with my birth or the family that I create?

His room looks like he is leaving for a movie with friends.  The garage holds three bikes laying mostly in parts, waiting for him to pick up his wrenches.  There are granola bars still in the cupboard – the high calorie kind you need when you work on a farm and run rivers in tiny kayaks.

While he anticipates with excitement the trip and its destination, college; I stand between two incredibly powerful sets of feelings – pride, excitement, and delight and the sadness that comes with knowledge that our home is changing yet again.

I can’t wait to get on the road and see the country with him.  I can’t wait to see the school and meet the people who will surround him while he is there.  When I stand next to him, I can feel the anticipation that he feels and it is contagious!

I am a little afraid of coming home.  There too, is a bifurcation of feeling.  I will miss him sorely.  The house will be a lot quieter when he is gone.  He is good company.  At the same time, I have a strong feeling of anticipation of what this change will mean for me – my house as studio, and life as an independent woman.   I will be on my own, much like my son, for the first time in many decades.

Sad?  Yes.  Exciting?  Also yes.  All there is to do now is to pack up the car and take the ride.