Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Buying a Gallon of Milk is a Major Commitment

It would be quite an understatement to say we live a bit of a ways away.  Far away from anything.

Your entire day is planned around one car ride.  A serious time commitment for miles driven. Railroad tracks bumpity, bumped, bumped, bumped over [3 sets] or even planning around the train schedule. 

There is no simple jaunt to the corner grocer.
 No gas station or 7-11 within less than the miles equal to 2 gallons of gas - there is virtually nothing out here.

You want milk? You are on a search party mission to the pantry, the fridge and your stash of cleaning/hygiene products for what you need. You write lists constantly. I write them in my dreams.  You do not want to make this trip more than once.  Nor do you want to waste the gas having to go back out because .  . .oops! You just realized your dog actually can't live on cicadas alone.  As much as she thinks she can ::ick:: kibble is a necessity.

Hey, I am not complaining.  We could be living in our cars, somewhere in suburbia. ::don't think that idea wasn't discussed. I would've had the studio.Ozcarz. Wallene would've been living with Dad in the condo/Murphyvan::


As it is, we got a pretty nasty shock in the middle of April and were faced with moving out of our home in 15 days.  It's too much to explain, and honestly not pertinent to anyone but Steven and I, so I won't go into the juicy details.  Okay?

Just one more hiccup in the life that is ours.  A life neither of us would change, we know, because the pay offs have always far outweighed the heartache, the laughs drown out the tears and the love deepens with each passing day.

It's what it is all about. 

I think the most frustrating thing for us right now is missing the familiar.

Our home. Our friends. My doctors and hospital. Our church. Our family, who are now even further away. . .

Lying in bed in the early morning darkness I fret.  Thinking of everything we have lost.

Then I roll over and see my husband.  I give him a quick kiss good morning, walk out to put on coffee, only to trip over Spot.  Laughing [okay, cursing under my breath, but imagine me laughing if you will, as it paints a much prettier picture] I pick myself up and notice our youngest has fallen asleep on the sofa.  I walk over and tug the comfort up over her shoulders.  I give her a quick kiss too, because by now I can hear the shower running and I know that Steven has to leave by 4:30 am for his two hour commute to work.

I grab a cup of coffee and go outside.

As I sit on the back porch, listening to the rain and the train whistle in the distance, I realize that my familiar is here. 

My familiar is wherever they are and I am with them.

I haven't lost anything.

Suddenly I don't miss Sterling, VA so much and I realize Louisa is starting to feel a little bit more like home.

And I smile. Again.
Life is a gift so smile loudly Tadpoles.
We'll see you on the flipside.

xo Janine [SkippyMom]


11 comments:

Mystic Mud said...

Ah, yes, the love/hate of far away.....I know it well :) and the lists, and dread of having forgot something, and the learning to do without when you inevitably do. It is a pain and expensive to live far out, I bet you are very thankful for Oscar's impressive gpm!!! I would be!!! Imagine me with my big red fire engine.....yikes!!! I swear, it is twenty bucks just to turn the key.....lol. I bet that it is beautiful and quiet where you are at though? Our last house was close to train tracks, after a while we didn't even hear the whistle blow.....like people who live under a flight path stop hearing the planes.

I've missed you, but you sound well even if a bit tried, but as you said and know so well - this is the stuff that life is made of :). I got my GAIN and I emailed you, just so you know, though I assume that you do know but have just been busy. I think of you often, and as I already said - miss you :). Wishing you well with lotsmofmlove to you and all of yours:). Xo michele

colenic said...

hugs...I love this post...

CWMartin said...

Home is where ever you live... so the guy told Radar on his last episode of MASH.

SapphireBlue said...

Great post. You have such a positive attitude.

Jean said...

Living in the country IS an adjustment. I was not quite so far away from everything as you seem to be - but the closest corner store was at least 10 miles away - school was half an hour away by highway - and that "city" wasn't, in fact, even a city - it was just bigger than the other towns around. The real city was at least 2 hours away. I feel for Steven - I would NOT want that drive every day. In fact - I would be tempted, if I were him, to find a very small room somewhere to bed down for several nights a week to save on the time and gas. And Wallene is so far from the kids she knows - I at least had friends a mile down the road. As an older lady who is no longer enamored with neighbors, I don't think I'd be too bothered myself. Unless you still have neighbors.

It's a big adjustment for sure. And so sudden. Life throws so many wrenches at us, doesn't it?

ellen abbott said...

Well, I guess that's why we haven't been hearing from you. What a shock having to find a new place and pack up and move in 15 days. I like living out here but the big city is only an hour away from me and this town has a grocery store at least.

Carolyn said...

So, THAT's where you've been....in the BOONIES! Hope you adjust well and learn to love, love, LOVE it. I wouldn't trade my country home for nuth'n, even if I DO have to drive 17 miles for groceries.

thisisme said...

Hi Skippy. Gosh, I envy you your positive attitude to everything that life throws at you, and you have certainly been dealt a pretty c..p hand my friend. BUT the positive side if that wonderful husband of yours and your children. I think I know what your answer would be if you were offered a better life but without Steven and Wallene and Squirrel. Try to hang on to that = I know how hard everything must be for you at the moment. I've just read your most recent post, where we can't leave a comment, and my heart goes out to you. Try to hang on in there and I will continue to pray for a miracle for all of you. Bigs hugs from that pesty little tadpole across the pond xx

Teresa - in the Middle Side of Life said...

I don't know if you'll have an opportunity to read this or not. I've only popped in and out a few times lately but you've been on my mind a lot. I can relate to some of what you've shared here as it wasn't that long ago that the rug was pulled out from under us as well (losing everything is not fun). Like Thisisme said - you'd choose this path over one without Steve and the girls if the opportunity for change was laid at your feet. So true - I know what my choice would have been, too.

Big hugs to you all and prayers for life to quit getting in the way of your best-laid plans. :)

Susan Flett Swiderski said...

What a beautiful post. As the saying goes, "Home is where the heart is," and your heart is with that wonderful family of yours. 12:34

Redhead said...

Oh my dear, what a touching post. I can't think of any solution to the quilt problem that you haven't already tried. All that is left is "short straw wins" which seems so arbitrary. I applaud your courage and forethought in dealing with these matters; I have seen what happens when there are no agreements ahead of time. Thinking good thoughts for you and your family with lots of hugs.