I mentioned in an earlier post that I would write about my hopes and dreams for 2020 and what’s changing and what’s not. But all I can think about now is that my dream for 2020 is about a house. And getting through this in-between place.
The place in-between is almost always a tough place to be. Long nights, fitful sleep, trying not to dream too much about the future. Writing middle-of-the-night poetry.
Just when I think I cannot endure yet another countdown, another new build (oh, woe is me, right?), okay, maybe in my defense I will say that we just went through this two years ago. Two years ago we’d just moved into our new house in Florida. Yep, after selling our house in Vegas, we moved clear across the country, squeezing our stuff and our little family of four (two are cats) into a small apartment in Florida.
For seven months there we were, bedroom dresser in the kitchen (bedroom was too small), boxes packed in storage, hauling our groceries to the third floor dodging lightning and thunder. And then halfway through the build, watching, watching, watching, evacuating to Nashville (Hurricane Irma), watching, watching, watching. It seemed like the process took forever. And now here we are back in Las Vegas waiting for a another new house to begin again. Yes, woe is me. What a problem to have, right? But we all have our daily struggles.
The real problem is what you have to live in during that in-between place. This place is rather funky. That’s one way to put it. The one saving grace was the casita I was using for my studio. Not just my own space inside the house where I could set up my own writing and music studio, but it was outside the house in a separate building. I loved that space. My space. But now it’s got problems making it practically unusable. We’ve put in a work request. But will they fix it? And when? Ah, yes, that is the question.
Thinking back to my childhood, I remember leaving our first brand new home when I was six and moving to a new city near the beach in Southern California. We were living in a small apartment waiting for another new house to be built. I celebrated my seventh birthday in that apartment, that apartment where I got my first electric organ. I had that thing for years. I don’t remember now what happened to it.
Anyway, as a kid, I didn’t notice how hard it was to live in a temporary place while waiting for the new house to build. As a kid, I remember the excitement of touring the new house in framing and choosing my bedroom. As I kid, I remember the apartment swimming pool where I learned to swim (where I cracked my chin on the side of the pool and had to get stitches.) But I also remember my mother struggling with the in-between situation, especially when the landlord complained about my brother and me being too nosy or throwing paper out the slider or something that kids do, right? Ha!
I remember other people’s new builds. Like when my step dad’s sisters were building new houses on their ranch properties in the Central Valley. Talk about scary places to live. They seemed like rundown shacks to me. I didn’t even want to visit them there. But I also remember the brand new beautiful homes they built and the fun times we had visiting them over the years throughout their lives. I even wrote a song about one of them, and called it “Road 24.”
I see looking back that even the in-between times are good. The Florida apartment I thought I’d never endure? Well now I look back and hold onto those memories because Skipper was still with us back then. He celebrated his 18th birthday in the new house and loved it so but now he’s gone and so my memories of him blessed that Florida apartment. In that Florida apartment he was still with us.
I wonder now why we moved to Florida if we were just going to move back to Vegas. If we hadn’t left, we’d still be living in our comfortable house and not going through all of this. But we’d have also missed out on that amazing two-year Florida adventure. And I wouldn’t have wanted to miss that.
So I try to be patient, enjoy the moments and the memories we’re making in this “in-between” place, and look expectantly toward the future, the new house in 2020, setting up my new studio where I will be, hopefully, making music, making memories, and writing stories. I can’t really choose between writing and music after all.
Screamie Birds Studios 