Settling In

It takes time for a body to forget trauma. I thought moving into the house, it would be like opening a new book and forgetting everything previously read. The stress of the past nine months still weighs on all of us, though. We worry about Tibe barking and breaking out of the double fence. He seems unconcerned about this, however, and only wishes there were more cars driving by on the road so he could race along the fence to try and beat them to the corner. This weekend, two lovely days lounging. Yes, some unpacking, but really sitting quietly and reading. Contemplating, refreshing, recharging. Letting the fear and concern seep away, bit by bit. The fear and horror arrived in an instant, like a thunderbolt that gripped us and stayed and stayed and stayed. Their departure was not instant. They will have to drip drip drip away like the water in caves forming stalagmites and stalactites over days and weeks and years. I thought it would be more like waters receding after a flood so we could see the damage, but it is slower. Quiet. A slow drain. A soft exhale. We are starting to remember how to breathe, but we do not yet trust that the air will be there.

Some notes on our progress:

Most boxes are unpacked, but not everything has found a space to live. Hence on the kitchen counter: a few random pots, some Star Wars tins waiting to go to work with the beloved, a leather attaché with “important papers” waiting for a home in the house, and a handful of other random things. Finally cleaned off is the nightstand beside my bed and the bathroom sink. There is order in the mornings and just before sleep.
The family room is not arranged properly. I do not have a table at my left hand for a beverage and to keep a stack of books on. I am not sure how to situate things to achieve that goal nor what table to use. The lamps that were at either end of our couch in Maryland now look a bit ratty and mangled. The shades stained and askew. We do not quite know how to arrange this room.
Sometimes, Tibe and Vita seem to be confused and lose track of us. We will hear mewing or barking, and we have to find them to remind them: Yes, we are all here together. Here is how to navigate about the new home.
Emma is uncertain if she wants to spend days with me and Tibe in the casita or if she wants to relax with Vita in the big house. Some days she splits, mornings with Vita, afternoons in the casita. Often at the end of the day though, she does not want to take the hot walk back to the big house for dinner. It remains a conundrum for her. I tell her: First world problem, Emma. She is not amused.
I splurged and bought a Soda Stream, the machines that make carbonated water from flat. My evening cocktail is a half inch of cranberry, half a lime, and the balance fizzy water. I am starting to think that carbonated water might fix everything.

My glass is definitely half full.