October 13, 2017

on eating a weekday lunch with my mother

There are certain activities that, when accomplished, make you feel like you've really got your life together. Cleaning a car (yourself) is one of those activities.

So obviously I cleaned my car last week.

I know, I know. Yay me. Just try to even get at me, Life! I've got vacuumed car mats, wiped down coin holders, no more Lupe snot infested windows, and dust-free AC vents. What now?

Oh I know what now. How about now I dust off this ol' keyboard and get to type-type-typing?

You don't know how many times in the past lots of months I have sat down to start writing. And that clean car bit was the best I could come up with! I would stop attempting to write because where should I even start? What was so interesting about my life that it needs to be shared? I felt like I had no words. No muse. No reason to write. Mostly because I was/am still trying to sort through my thoughts and feelings about so many things so how could I write on topics about which I had no idea how I felt?

I still feel that way. Suddenly I have found myself in a season of life where I question things. All the things. Everything.

Did we make the right choice to move? On all moves?
Does Lupe need to switch up his food to the seafood flavor?
Do I keep eating chocolate until I turn into an oompa loompa or stop now when I'm halfway there?
Why does Rick put up with me?
Is it time to start a family?
Do I learn all the words to the Moana songs or just the one line?
Is it okay to start The Office again for the fifth time?
Is happiness a choice and am I doing a good job at choosing it?

^^^listen, that's not even scratching the surface of the inside of my head recently. It's as if the characters from Inside Out crossed over with the leads in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

But one thing I've come to realize is that I don't necessarily need to have the right words or feelings---I just need to start type-type-tying through everything and I will possibly find the right words. So here we are.

Hi! I'm Emily. Nice to meet you. Yadda yadda yadda.

Want a quick rundown of what's been going on? Cool. No big deal, Rick and I moved (again), but this time it was back home.
This means a lot of things. For instance, just this past week I had lunch with my mom on Monday, my siblings-in-law came to dinner Tuesday, my sister spent the night Wednesday, on Thursday I taught a new client who remembers watching my grandfather broadcast on TV in Atlanta, and by Friday another new client realized she knows my father-in-law and even helped him set up my rehearsal dinner. 
All in a week's work, my friends, all in a week's work. Lupe spends just as much time, if not more, at my parent's house playing with their dogs, and Freddie and I often end up at places we frequented while dating. It's all so weird, so deja-vu-y, and so wonderful.

But I have to be honest, it's also been hard. I was talking to a client who has moved many times throughout the past twenty years, and I asked her if the moving and starting over was difficult for her. She thought only for a second before responding with, You know, it wasn't. I really tried to bloom where I was planted, and I enjoyed every place we were. 

Bloom where you're planted. I love that! Freddie and I have really have enjoyed each town and each apartment where we've been. We became fluent in being beach bums in Charleston, walked miles up and down King Street, and picked out fun little bungalows in the Old Village. We also became fluent in Texas cowboy, went to fifty million Rodeos and are ready to go to fifty million more, and biked miles and miles and miles around the city of Houston.

Each place has really left a deep impression on our minds and hearts, and I feel like in return we've kind of left pieces of ourselves in each place. Charleston Rick and Emily were different than Houston Rick and Emily who are different than Atlanta Rick and Emily.

Here's where my fun brain comes into play: did we bloom too much where we were planted? Did we get our roots too deeply in too many places? Are we making things harder on ourselves by having to start over every few years? Which Rick and Emily were the best Rick and Emily? And the big one: did we make the right choice to move?

I might not know the answers to most questions I create on a daily basis, but on that last question ^^^ up there I know the answer.

When I get to see and hug our families on a regular basis, when I get to visit my grandfather in the hospital, when I get to teach in the Pilates studio where I fell in love with Pilates ten years ago, when we get to spend a Tuesday evening cooking with old friends and a Wednesday evening playing games with siblings, when I get to go to bed knowing that the next week will bring all those familiar feelings and people again then yes, I know we made the right decision.

What I'm trying to say is A) obviously I need to be medicated, right? ;) B) a lot has been going on, but being Georgians again is fun and C) remember the whole cleaning your car bit from earlier? I guess what I was trying to say there is that coming home is much like cleaning out your old car: a little refresh and shine are all you really need to spruce up things and make something old and familiar feel new and exciting again.

Shoot! I knew I was going somewhere by starting this post with a clean car story. Wink.


pee-sss: I have a very big respect and appreciation for anyone, military or not, whose job requires them to move often. You are my hero. 

pee-pee-sss: Chucktown and HTX friends, we miss the bleep out of you. 

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