Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Nutmeg

(Linds and I with our sweet tea)

Life lately has been hectic. The slowdown and hurryup of mashing major changes all at once, but still a few months away. As someone who struggles to live in the moment and loves to plan plan plan, I am stressed with the logistics of moving, finding a job, supporting my husband through completing his PhD, while remaining conscious of the fact that this chapter of our lives is almost over so we better soak it up while we can.

The internal battle I am having right now is exemplified by a small red-capped bottle which once held nutmeg. Now, do I buy more of this spice? Knowing that I love a little splash on my saturday morning french toast? Or do I hold off for a couple months til I am settled somewhere (and oh brother, where?!?)? How much nutmeg will I really need for the next two months?

We have been waiting to move back to the PNW since about three days into our Southern adventure. The pull of our families is strong and irresistible. I almost broke down and cried while Skyping with my sister the other day over the prospect of seeing each other more than once a year (what adventures we can have! pedicures! outlet malls! saturday-nights-in! sibling squabbles IN PERSON!). I am ready for random tuesdays with my BFF, Sunday dinners with our favorite couple, like-minded folks who love Jesus and fight for the poor, summers that sustain and rebuild. Trails! Birkenstocks! Sweatshirts! Ferryboats! Island adventures!

But this excitement is coupled with the nagging realization that after five years here I finally feel like I get this southern thing - I know I will get better service if I throw in a few y'alls, I know that I will end up blabbing about Jessica Simpson with the grocery store checker, that things are slow and that's okay, that the veggies are most likely not vegetarian. I know about bluegrass and sweet tea and big floppy hats. I have friends and a job I will miss - two things I thought at one point would never, ever come.

Its a happy, surreal feeling to be planning our move to the place that has occupied our 'golden city on the hill', metaphorically and otherwise.

This place will always be sacred and special to us. This is where we learned how to be married people - and where we learned that will mean different things today than it will a year or ten from now. This is where we made mistakes, made friends, got through school, where we had our first big living-together fight (who wants to dry their dishes on the counter? dish racks are so much better). This is where I learned to live more confidently in the body I was given, learned what I need in a community, in a job. This adventure was sink-or-swim at first, and now is comfortable and affirming.

So I am remaining grateful while I gather it all together - the lessons learned and relearned, two new diplomas to hang on the walls of our someday home, the sundresses destined for a lesser life - and prepare to move ourselves 3000 miles away.

Mama, ima comin home.

(But really, do I buy more nutmeg?)

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