I'm sitting beside the (decorative) fireplace in our living room, looking out the window. From here, I can see our front porch, the impatiens blooming in the flowerbed framing it, and our orange hatchback parked at the curb. My husband is arranging his painting studio, which is upstairs, on the second floor of our house. The cat is bravely nosing around our backyard and the dog, well, she's napping here at my feet, but give her a break-- it's 95 degrees out and she's old.
A week ago, there was no house, there was no car, and there certainly was no porch or yard or charming woodwork or mantle pieces or time for writing and looking out windows or large studio spaces for making large scale work.
A week ago, there was Brooklyn. Today, there's Richmond. And Richmond is in Virginia, and Virginia terrifies me.
Obviously, there's nothing frightening about the scene I describe. (Except maybe the car; my feelings on the car are complicated. I should mention the bikes are here, too, and are in frequent use-- nothing scary about that.) We're enjoying space and silence we could never afford in Brooklyn. And Virginia, in itself, doesn't scare me either, though I haven't been to the DC suburbs or Virginia Beach yet. No, Virginia for me--for us I should say, husband too-- has come to mean massive life change, which, for us, means pressure's on, time to paint that series, time write that book, time to write those songs, time to study, time to open a cafe, time to get even more poor, crap, are we going to get more poor? Are we going to get sick of each other? Are we going to meet people? Are we going to get sick of them? Are we going to get sick of all the spiders and all the trees everywhere?
There are trees and spiders everywhere!
We moved here for these things, insects included. I'm back in graduate school again, again. And husband finally has the space and time to paint super big. And so, in addition to the obvious lifestyle changes, Virginia offers us these particular pressures, which, really, are exciting opportunities. It's thrilling and thrilling.
A week ago, there was no house, there was no car, and there certainly was no porch or yard or charming woodwork or mantle pieces or time for writing and looking out windows or large studio spaces for making large scale work.
A week ago, there was Brooklyn. Today, there's Richmond. And Richmond is in Virginia, and Virginia terrifies me.
Obviously, there's nothing frightening about the scene I describe. (Except maybe the car; my feelings on the car are complicated. I should mention the bikes are here, too, and are in frequent use-- nothing scary about that.) We're enjoying space and silence we could never afford in Brooklyn. And Virginia, in itself, doesn't scare me either, though I haven't been to the DC suburbs or Virginia Beach yet. No, Virginia for me--for us I should say, husband too-- has come to mean massive life change, which, for us, means pressure's on, time to paint that series, time write that book, time to write those songs, time to study, time to open a cafe, time to get even more poor, crap, are we going to get more poor? Are we going to get sick of each other? Are we going to meet people? Are we going to get sick of them? Are we going to get sick of all the spiders and all the trees everywhere?
There are trees and spiders everywhere!
We moved here for these things, insects included. I'm back in graduate school again, again. And husband finally has the space and time to paint super big. And so, in addition to the obvious lifestyle changes, Virginia offers us these particular pressures, which, really, are exciting opportunities. It's thrilling and thrilling.
First, welcome to Virginia. I am thrilled to have both of you here. My Lady Richmond has much to offer, and I hope to be able to acquaint you both with her.
ReplyDeleteSecondly, the most rewarding things in life always follow in the footsteps of our greatest fears. I can't imagine that Virginia is more frightening than moving to New York, or searching for that certain person that you will spend your life with? Brooklyn is behind you, and Josh is beside you. You are writing your next chapter, and you already have the title.
Hope to see you both soon.
Sterling
sweetie pie, you are brave. and i miss you so.
ReplyDeleteYou are very brave. ( especially with the spiders!)
ReplyDeleteYou're a force. Thinking of you and sending you positivity!
:) Flavia