"Spring Will Be a Little Late This Year"

You're supposed to read this listening to Carly Simon and Jimmy Webb's heartbreakingly beautiful rendition of the title song in her 1997 "concept" album Film Noir. At least, go here (Amazon link) and listen to the sample, it's such a gorgeous duet! I wish it wouldn't be c0pyright infringement to post the song here... what a complicated world we live in :-( I don't have the song in my computer, so I'm listening to Joni Mitchell...

I had an alternate, silly title: "This post's title was supposed to be a tired old metaphorical cliche, but you get this instead..." and I'm glad I remembered the song. And here's the ridiculous (but true right now) cliched metaphor: Spring is here, but as far as our spirits are concerned, it's still the middle of Winter. Yeah, that's what I thought when I was driving home on Friday, after 5.5 hours of driving.

It was still quite wintery looking up there in Massachusetts (especially Western MA), so when I pulled off the PA Turnpike into Germantown Pk. I realized that it was already very much Spring here, bright forsythias, . And then, I basically cried the 7 miles that separate from the Pike to our house. It was 7:30 pm, but there was still light and I could see my beautiful flowers, cheery daffodils and colorful and sweet smelling hyacinths.

I was surprised at myself... I didn't expect I would be just so devastatingly angry, so upset at coming back to my "perfect house" (thanks to my wonderful husband) knowing it's meant not to be ours anymore. As I drove home I had this almost "violent" reaction that after we sell the house, I never want to set foot in this area again. I want to move into the city and just forget that we ever lived here for almost two years. I want to move on and not look back. And I just felt angry. There's nothing to be angry at, that's the worst part. I will write later about how most of this suffering is of our own making (ah... regret, how bitter and caustic it is).

Anyway... I had two wonderful, beautiful weeks with my boys. I realized some small dreams -- I went back with them to the hospital where they were born, we visited this museum, went to the playground I used to take Kelvin in his first two years of life, and drove by the condo townhome into which I brought both of my babies from the hospital (Kelvin remembers it too, and he was 2.5 when we moved) -- our first house, the one we bought with 10K down -- the only money we perhaps will get back after 8 years of home ownership and two very profitable home sales.

I also stayed for a few days at my friend's house and the boys got to play with her daughters -- I had wanted to do that since last year and it was lovely! And before all that (in the previous week), I spent a lot of time with one of my best friends from childhood and her husband -- oh what a wonderful gift, after over 12 years of separation!!

So, this is a pathetic little post just to let you know that we're back and well, in spite of the fact that the night before I drove home (last Thu to Fri) was awful because Linton had an "asthma" attack (he doesn't have asthma, but was wheezing and coughing after a "coughy"cold) and I didn't want to just go to the emergency room, so I was up with him most of the night. We were able to have him use the nebulizer on Friday morning and I drove home uneventfully (he slept for three hours). I'm never leaving the house without that nebulizer and albuterol ever again!

Our friends are being very supportive and we know deep down that everything will be all right at the end, but it's still very painful. Having to leave the house looking perfect all the time is stressful, cooking is a hassle and a worry (won't the house smell bad?), but I must admit that it's an excellent exercice in "tidyness" for messy me, something I can use to improve in the future.

The stress is taking a toll on us, though. I'm snapping at the boys a lot, my voice has been slightly hoarse for over a month now (I don't have a runny nose or any other cold symptoms, but my throat just never fully heals), and at times I feel such sadness and despair that it's almost unbearable. It comes and goes, I cried while writing the post and Linton, who was watching some Bill the Science Guy YouTube video in the laptop with Kelvin in the same room, came to ask me what was going on and kissed me gently.

While I was writing the post, the bank called to check whether K would be making the mortgage payment tonight. He's delaying the payment to closer to the end of the grace period so that the bank will take seriously our request for a renegotiation of the terms of the mortgage. We do qualify for the plans that the government is trying to push the banks to renegotiate with struggling homeowners (we cannot refinance [not enough income], we can only renegotiate if possible), but the banks only do it if they are willing, or so I'm told. We don't know if ours is. And even if the payment could be dropped by 300 or more dollars, that would still not be enough for us to afford it unless I got steady work (not the uncertain adjuncting or lecturing, I guess -- not that I have really tried to go for those :-( ).

Anyway, this is getting really really l ong, I've been writing (on and off) since 5:30 pm and it's almost 9:30 pm, so I will just hit publish, OK? Without revising. We've been "revising" all our past right now, and it's just too painful.