The weather is unsettled. Summer and winter in the same day, several times over. As I write, I look out of the window and it's hailing. Ten minutes ago it was bright sunshine, and the sky was blue.
I am unsettled. Two family funerals in the past two months. Two house sales in the next two months. We close on ours in May, and my mother completes hers in June.
We aren't going to be at our closing in person ("closing" is the term for the meeting, where the seller, the buyer, the two realtors, and the title company, get together, usually at the premises of the title company, to sign off on the deal). We have the necessary documents, which we are going to sign, next week, in the presence of a US notary at the US Consulate General in Edinburgh. I've made the appointment. I found the act of making that appointment disproportionately stressful, necessitating a phone call to the Consulate General and the careful reading of their website. Anyone who has been through the process of getting a US visa will understand why. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that as I dialled the number, my heart started pounding. It was the memory of previous trips to the US Embassy in London, huge stacks of paperwork, photos rejected for random reasons, dealing with lawyer-speak well beyond the understanding of mere mortals like myself, slightly humiliating medicals and endless vaccinations, all at great expense and all with so much at stake.
My mother is leaving the house she and my father moved into, on 1st April, 1963. I was born in her bedroom. We gathered the family over Easter, to celebrate our family having been in the house for exactly 50 years (Easter Monday was 1st April, if you remember), and we had a lovely time: 3 generations, 16 people, 1 dog. But now it really is the final countdown. Contracts are being exchanged today (unless the solicitors come up with still more items to research), and completion is on 7th June. This really is it. Furniture will go to the local auction house. Belongings will be packed into a removal van. Items will disappear into boxes, to emerge in another house, in another town. Furniture, belongings, items, which I've known all my life. My roots are being severed. I don't like it.
It all makes me feel jittery. My hands and feet are permanently cold. I confess to spending more time than usual in a hot bath at the moment.
Where do I belong? I very nearly drove off on the right hand side of the road yesterday. It gave me a jolt. Don't I know which country I'm in by now? I couldn't find the spices in Tesco the other day. I looked up and down the "Homebaking" aisle where I knew they'd be, but I couldn't see them anywhere. I found the herbs, so I knew I was close. Then I saw them, and I realised why it had taken me so long. I had the wrong search criteria in my brain. I hadn't been scanning the shelves for spices in glass jars. I'd been scanning for spices in little red tins. Little red Kroger tins. Do I still think I'm in Dillons, not Tesco?
I suppose I'm like the spring. She has one foot in winter and one foot in summer. I have one foot in the past and one foot in the future. Blue sky and hail. That's me.
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Lovely post Iota. The anticipation of change is harder than being past it. As for supermarkets - I still have trouble looking for the right packaging for what I need - they say it takes a year to settle into a new place (or a new/old place) - I wonder how long it takes to remember what packaging to look for - especially when for many products, they are constantly reinventing them.
ReplyDeleteGreat post - and interesting to note one your labels was 'homesick'. For the US, or your former UK home? (All in the interests of research, you understand...)
ReplyDeleteYes, homesick for the US. But also anticipating being homesick for my childhood home. And homesick for that feeling of being settled, being 'at home', which will come, but which I don't quite yet have here.
DeleteThere is film called Somewhere Between its about 4 girls who were born in China and adopted by US families. One of the girls expresses always feeling "somewhere between".
ReplyDeleteTo a lesser degree I think its the same for us Expats, are we ever "fully" one or the other ever again? Sometimes I enjoy being somewhere between and sometimes it is unsettling. Either way I can't change it now.
http://www.somewherebetweenmovie.com/
p.s Take lots of photos of your parents house, we think we will remember everything but without the photos we don't.
I'm sure I'm going to be feeling a whole lot of that in future months....
ReplyDeleteCan't believe you have to go and see a US notary for the closing of your house sale! I wonder if it would be the same in the US if you sold a house in the UK? Bet it wouldn't.
I can understand how you're feeling about your mother's house. I never lived in a house long enough for it to be a real family home, but my husband was very unsettled when his father sold the house in which he grew up.
I can imagine your feelings - you put them to paper so well! Good luck on the coming weeks :)
ReplyDeleteI can imagine how you are feeling about your mum moving from the house you grew up in - my mum still lives in the house I grew up in. It must be a difficult time for everyone.
ReplyDeleteSuch an evocative post, and one that hit me really strongly, Iota. Different set of circumstances for me, but otherwise, I feel like I could have written this post (not as well, of course!) I, too, am unsettled right now, and the only difference between us is that I still have no idea where and when I will end up. I've been waiting to write about it until things are finally settled, but at the moment it feels like we'll never get there. It's strangely comforting for me to remember that, even when you're back 'home' and supposedly all settled down, being unsettled is still a part of life. Like NVG, I never lived anywhere long enough to actually call it 'home,' but I struggled with a lot of emotions when my mother-in-law sold her house - one of the few places that remained consistent for me over the years. I should be in Ohio this summer visiting my mum - let me know if you'd like me to pick you up a few tins of spices at Kroger for old times' sake..; )
ReplyDeleteWell, this one rings many bells for me. My mother moved out of our family home the year after I got married and moved to the States, so when I came back the next year I got lost trying to find her new house. It was a strange sensation. The other strange one is that, because no one lives anywhere near the old house now, I never really got a chance to say goodbye to it.
ReplyDeleteAnd I so recognised your heart beats at having to deal with the US government. Trying to get my first green card (before the days of the Internet), having to trail round to the US Embassy in London on my lunch break etc. Shudder.
I'm sorry, is all I can think of too say. You eloquently express a feeling I know well.
ReplyDelete"Blue sky and hail. That's me."
ReplyDeleteA beautiful description for an unsettled time.
Put some lavender and tea tree oil in that bath, they're both good for "balancing", 4 Lav and 2 Ttree would work well.
I like Deberoo's comment and advice...please be gentle with yourself, it's an emotional rollercoaster you're on...
Yikes. My mother moved out of the family home a year and a half ago. It felt very very odd. And her new house is not and never will be home, of course. Certainly not to me and probably not to her either, like it though she does. Perhaps we have to concentrate on people not places for our home for a while? What about a favourite and long loved book or movie to take you to a familiar and comfortable place?
ReplyDeleteBon courage. The baths sound good.
Love
Josephine
Maybe not the point of your post, but thanks for the reminder that the 'unsettledness' and homesickness lasts a while and comes up unexpectedly. I've only been back in the home country a month and things are beginning to feel normal, but I know that I am going to have days of unsettledness when I least expect it... Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDelete