unexpected humanity

I found a complete box set of 'Anne of Green Gables' a few weeks ago and bought it for a friend of my daughter's.  The excitement and heart ache it's arrival has caused surprises me because it shouldn't.  These books are very much woven into my own story and shaped my early pre-teen and teen years in the same way Laurie Colwin's novels shaped who I am now, who I will become. And I love that my daughter's friend wants to go for hot cocoa so we can talk about them at length. 

I spent much of today between layers of bureaucracy. I pause for a moment and drift into thought about a time when my biggest concerns were whether I should buy the red linen trousers or pay rent. The answer was - obviously, to the 22 year old me, to buy the trousers, because I could pick up extra shifts and any of myriad of jobs to cover the rent. Between that, and the search for the perfect Queso and Margaritas, and good fishin' holes, life was pretty simple. It got a little more complicated in the winter, when I would move on to dirty martinis, cocktail wear, and making out with all the wrong kind of men, but it was still easier than navigating this particular estuary. 

If I had a dollar, a korun, an Euro, a Deutsche Mark, for all of the times I have left my wallet someplace...today, it was at the Kroger's in Centerville. Fortunately, I discovered it's absence within the hour, but still...not an ideal time to have to circle back on myself. It comes after candid conversation with a realtor, preparing for the physically heavy lifting part of this journey. It comes in the wake of being exhausted and pushing to dangerous reserves. I am already worried I may not have brought enough ofy medication and I tripled what I thought I would need.

The Real Estate agent is exactly as I remember him but older. Of course, the last time we saw one another was in the early 19902, at his sister's wedding at Pollen Farms. With the exception of straighish teeth and an absence of puffed pink taffeta sleeves and and I don't know that I look much different.

We talk briefly about history and anthropology, then get down to the brass tacks. The duplex, what the English would all semi-detached, is prime real estate. The houses combined are over 3,500 square feet. On one side, the damage is intense but superficial. The other, structural, the kind you can't really fully assess until you start breaking through the sheetrock. I know the answer but it isn't quite mine to decide. Yet. Timber is at an all-time high, the strain of trying to manage a building project from abroad...I think I may finally be learning my limits. The idea briefly 

 The houses have done what they were supposed to: they sheltered us and kept us as safe as we would allow them. But they belong to my dad now and at some point, he has to make a call. Doesn't he?

I wake at 2am to deal with work issues for my longest standing client. I'm up at for an hour, then back to bed until a morning terror sends me bolt up. Coffee and bickering children, then I drop them at a friend's. I should be back 12:30, I say, not wanting to leave. I'm overly optimistic. By 12:08, I am still not through the nursing facilities intake paperwork. The issues, I can sort, but they are hard graft. 

The generosity of people continues to warm my cold, cold heart. The office manager spends an hour going over the intake paperwork. My friends C and J make space for the littles in the AM, my friend L pauses her birthday week to sit with them whilst my friend J (who happens to be a notary) performs her magic. The bank manager who expedites a replacement card and waves the fees, these tip the scales restoratively.  And in the UK and on the Continent, people are constantly checking on me, booking things for when I get back home, looking after Miss Jones, keeping the builders on point.

It leaves me breathless, this love, this care. I am getting so much better at asking for help, accepting it when it arrives. Receiving it without expecting strings or caveats. In a country where there is a charge for everything, even to pay a bill by phone, I sit in this largess and smile. With relief. With hope. With acceptance. Between that kind of love and the wisdom of my life coach Joey the Corgi to 'always nap,' I think I'll just about manage to hoist the mainstays.