In just over a week, my parents will be wending their way across the country to their new home in Burnsville, MN. Where it’s cold. Where my sister lives. Where they will spend their rest of their days, hopefully gardening at my sister’s and playing with their grandchildren and maybe having a more full life than they’ve been able to have here.
I’m filled with mixed feelings.
On one hand, I am happy to have them moving somewhere. It’s been a tough two years, sharing this space. My mother is not the most considerate person in the world, to put it nicely. She smokes in the house, despite my asthmatic bronchitis. My lungs will be relieved and happy once that’s gone. Her birds are a sound nightmare, making noise every possible second that they can. The bickering between my parents makes me crazy. My mother sits in the living room and bellows her questions, then yells when she doesn’t get an answer. And on and on.
I’ve reverted to being 13 again while living here. I am apparently incapable of doing anything correctly or doing anything at all. My mother likes to point out when I don’t do something correctly or chastise me for… well… pretty much everything.
Watching my father’s health fail has been the hardest part. This is a man who, until about three years ago, still golfed 9 holes three times a week, despite his heart only functioning at around 15 percent. He loved to go to the casino and sit for hours and play. He loved to go for walks in the neighborhood and hang out at electronics stores.
Now, he can barely manage to get out of the car at the grocery store. Mom usually goes in without him because he’s not strong enough to shop. When the weather’s good, he’ll still shuffle around the block but it takes him about a half an hour to do a 10 minute walk. But he tries to do as much as he can. His newer cardiologist seems to have gotten his medications balanced better so he does have more good days than bad. But now he’s changing doctors and it’ll start all over again.
I have given up a lot these last two years to be here and be available for my parents. Some are tangible - mornings when I’d rather go to a movie than drive Mom to Target, when I’d love to be able to take advantage of free museum days but give them up to help out here, coming home early to see if they need anything. Some are intangible - tolerating my mother’s negativity, giving up a lot of emotional life to be here with them. Maybe even giving up a lot of my life to be here with them.
Yet, I’m very sad that they’re moving across the country. In my entire life, we have only lived that far apart for maybe three years. I moved down to California, they moved shortly thereafter when Dad retired early. They have been a confusing mixture of support and frustration but I know I can always count on them to help me out when I’m in trouble. One phone call and Dad is there. Mom has saved me financially more than I can ever repay.
I’m sad that I won’t be able to just jump in the car and drive down to see them. To take Mom to the mall and hang out. To grab a bite with them at some senior restaurant. I’m sad that we won’t see each other for long stretches at a time. I’m sad they’ll be so far out of my life.
But I am excited at getting my life back.
I feel like the time I’ve had since I left my husband has pretty much been on hold. I knew the roomie situation with the fabulous Tiffany was temporary and then moving into my own sublet for a few months was even more temporary. Moving in with my parents was also temporary. So I’ve been temporary for the past three and a half years. That’s a long time to be temporary. I’m hoping that since I’m staying in the same apartment for the foreseeable future will give me some sense of permanence, some sense of place. Some sense of my own.
The wonder that is Monica is moving in with me, which will only help bring more positivity to my life. I have to be careful not to be so excited about having “my” own place that I don’t forget that Monica needs to have that same sense of place, that sense of her own space as well.
I’m excited at having some peace and quiet in my life. Although I am a social creature and tend to get very depressed when I am not around people, I do need those times of quiet and zen. Haven’t had a lot of that in three and a half years. I’m excited at being able to pick up my guitar and pick up the re-learning curve again. I’m excited most of all about having a space in the living room/dining room where I can paint and not have to move wet paintings into the shower to dry so I don’t knock them over in my bedroom.
And I’ll have a bed. A real bed. Not an Ikea special or a day bed, which is where I’ve been sleeping for two years. But a full queen-sized bed. Where I can spread out and Twyla can again sleep near my feet instead of almost on my head. I can stretch out, not sleep curled up against the bars of the day bed.
And just to finally feel like I’m a grown-up with my own place and my own space and not have to worry about when I have to pack up again or if someone is not going to approve of what I’m doing, even if it means I’m laying in bed all day. My own place.
So I’m sad Mom and Dad will be so far away. But I’ll start saving my pennies for a Christmas visit. And in the meantime, I’m ready to get started on my life -- finally.
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