and like that, we're in. new space, new neighborhood. they gypsy blood in me is so happy to change environments. but let's be honest. gypsy blood only runs in one vein in my body. the one they can never find when they do blood tests. bruised from the searching, poking, cutting off circulation. the rest of me craves familiarity and i am humbled at the plight of a refugee. i know that i can never understand that type of displacement and i berate myself for crying through my anxiety when there is so much more i could be crying about. like this, for example.
i watch my daughter deal with new situations and i marvel at the ways in which we adapt. as humans. as a child. versus as an adult. it takes a clear and concerted effort on my part to not wallow in the negative space between everything i want for us and everything we have and yet she just deals with it and really only throws fits over food. she's not a great eater.
but the rest of life seems to swim by her and she watches it and floats along and sometimes tries to swim the other way but mostly kicks her legs in order to move faster. children amaze me. simultaneously uninhibited and utterly themselves and yet completely able to conform at a moment's notice. it's liberating and terrifying to think that i have so much influence. because i think about things like death and taxes and if i'm not careful i find myself spiraling down and losing my grip and i start to focus on the dirt and the trash and i forget that sometimes all she really needs is to get the hell out of the house and spend some time on the sidewalk with chalk. that sometimes all i need is to sit on a blanket in the grass and drink my coffee outdoors.
this always happens when i move. i am unable to relax and enjoy myself until the boxes are unpacked. the stuff is put away. our new life is organized. because otherwise, i'm cursing at myself in the garage searching for the nursing pads and a pair of pants that will fit because we still haven't been able to fix what needs to be fixed and unpack everything. i rest on the couch much of the day, nursing and recovering and lamenting all that i'm not getting done. instead i delve into pinterest to give myself something to do while dash eats.
and i eat ice cream like it is my motherfucking job.