endings and beginnings
We just about finished up the house cleaning yesterday. Only a few odds and ends to tidy today before we go out for the evening with friends. With Karena's help, we wrangled our great big king size bed into the queen size room. Now it's truly a bed room. All bed, like a great big bird's nest. Years ago, a Native American woman at the Fremont Market in Seattle gifted me with a golden eagle feather. I've kept it hanging in my various studios over the years, and now I've decided to hang it in the Nest. It fits there, making it all the more bird-like, and adding a little bit of magic somehow. The Nest makes me feel like Michelle Pfeiffer as Titania, Queen of the Fairies, in A Midsummer Night's Dream, all pampered and sparkly. So, so lovely.
I was caught a little off guard last night, when I realized there was no good reason to be in the house any longer. All our stuff is in the trailer. Clothes, food, music, booze... obviously the party had to move too. We had gone to the Guadalajara Grill for a late lunch/early dinner around 3:00 (something we think we might do more regularly; eat a big meal early in the day, and snack at night when we're too tired to cook anyway. Things are changing before we even leave the driveway...) We didn't quite know what to do with ourselves for the evening. The house, while it's clean and beautiful, is no longer welcoming, at least not to us. It's waiting for its new people. It makes me kind of sad to wander around in there now. We've had eight mostly wonderful years here, and the house has played a big part in our Taos experience. It became a gathering place for friends, and a comfortable, personal, friendly home for us. Lauren went through high school here, and bounced back often during college in Albuquerque. We had parties that will be missed by our friends. Soup Nights, the Pirate Party, and countless impromptu evenings on the patio, talking by the fire until late at night. I hope someone picks up where we've left off and keeps the friends together, but it will have to happen someplace else. And then there's my empty studio... it feels particularly cavernous. Hollow. Karena stood musing about the many, many beads that came out of that one little room these past eight years. Thousands, literally. And now... no more Taos beads.
We hit an ending with the house that I've been too busy to expect. It stung a bit. We sat on the patio until it got dark. Then we went inside to take showers in the house, since my kiln is still sitting the the shower in the trailer. And then it was time to begin a new beginning. We rounded up the dogs and settled in for the night in the trailer, camping in our own driveway. We made snacks, and watched half a movie before we just couldn't keep our eyes open any longer. It's nice in the trailer. And soon it will feel like home. We'll keep shuffling our stuff around until its all settled in the right places. We'll become familiar with the cabinets, the stove, all the working parts. The dogs have their own "room" - the bottom bunk, next to the bathroom, which they seem to like a lot, and are willing to share, although Lucy, being the big sister, took first dibs on her space.
Rick and I did all our nighttime things; brushed our teeth at the tiny bathroom sink, set up the mini Mr. Coffee, filled the new red tea kettle, locked the door, and then climbed the three steps up to our nest. Ah... home. Our own familiar bed with our own cool sheets and fluffy pillows and down comforter. The open windows breathed in the soft high desert air, and I knew then that I'd be OK. That I'm not loosing anything. That great adventures are waiting for us. I feel like we're being sent on some kind of mission. This is not a whim or a vacation or a game. It's about to be the next chunk of our life, and we're taking it seriously and lightly all at the same time. Endings are a lot harder than beginnings, and the two are almost always intermingled. For me, having the Nest will make all the difference between insecurity and comfort. It's that familiar thing that will remind me each night that no matter where I am, I'm home. We slept like baby birds last night, and this morning, the silly fears and the sense of loss are gone. I remember now. I'm always home, because I am my own home.