We rolled into town exhausted and excited just over two months ago. The moving truck arrived the day after we did and I have to admit….two months later most of the boxes, most of the things, are still exactly where they were left on that day. We did unbox the essentials: kitchen items, bathroom items,clothes, Steve’s “work from home” office and our bed out of necessity, but the rest of the house has remained in a state of chaotic flux. I thought in today’s post I would unpack (see what I did there) the three main reasons why we continue to step over boxes, have nothing hung on the walls and still have no place to sit.

1. Exploration
2. Projects
3. Listening

Exploration: I plan to dedicate more time to this topic at some point but basically there is just SO much to see and do outside of the house. The weather has been amazing: balmy and breezy with the tang of sea salt in the air. I have found it easy to spend half a day or more driving off of main roads to see what lies around the next bend and the bend after that and the bend after that. I have discovered pockets of ocean accessed by narrow paths hardly noticeable from the road, old churches, dilapidated hospitals and abandoned buildings. I have paid my respects at cemeteries overgrown with weeds, moss and ivy. I have seen a cargo ship listing on its side in the sound. I have picked through forgotten treasures at antique shops and gotten news, gossip and local lore from the proprietors. I got my library card, my Georgia driver’s licence and joined a book group. I have listened to local bands on First Friday, eaten shrimp right off of the boat, learned about rum at the local distillery and developed a taste for blueberry wine. I am discovering so much about my new area and rediscovering my sense of curiosity, adventure and wonder.

Projects: This one is simple. The house we bought was kept up extremely well by the former owners. We are so lucky that the people who lived here prior loved the house and kept on top of fixes and repairs. It is a slippery slope with older homes once things start to be neglected (wiring, plumbing, electric, roof, foundation) and we are beyond lucky that (knock on non termite infected wood) all the changes we want to make and projects we are taking on are purely cosmetic. That said….there are cosmetic changes we want to make in nearly every room. Old carpet to remove. Wood floors to sand, stain and seal. Cracks in plaster to repair. Odd doorways (the house, from what I can gather has been reconfigured with space annexed from other rooms during varying times in its life) to close up. Light fixtures to update. Paint colors to change out. We decided early on that it makes more sense to live in the chaos now than create it later on. In other words: finish the projects in a room before fully moving into that room. (The few furniture pieces we brought with us are in their designated rooms but the boxes have not been unpacked.) It is a slow process but I know us well enough to know that if we did not do it this way many of the projects on our list would never get done. Let’s face it: as much as I do not enjoy boxes in the middle of the room now, I would REALLY not enjoy re boxing everything back up in a month or two and moving it out of the room in order to get the carpet out and the hardwood refinished. After which I would have to unpack it all and set it all up once again. Chances are, if that were the case, I would just live with the old carpet forever. So we are taking it slow, doing it right and (hopefully) doing it once.

Listening: This one is a bit odd perhaps, but I think it is the most important. I have a busy mind. My mind is loud and frantic and always racing ahead of itself. Pauses in conversation are filled in by my mind with two or three scenarios before the speaker continues on with his train of thought. Watching movies, listening to music and reading books often involves my mind racing ahead to try and figure out the next twist, the next lyric, the grand finale to the point on non enjoyment. I find it difficult and stressful to just “be.” I have mental lists and agendas going all of the time and to just let things unfold and reveal themselves at their own pace makes it hard for me to breathe. But I am learning. In the relationships most important to me, I have managed (sometimes better than others) to take a breath, exhale slowly, and let people ask their questions and tell their stories in their own words and at their own pace. I feel that with this house. I feel that we are beginning a relationship and I want to take the pause necessary to hear what it has to say. I know it has stories to tell and secrets to share and I want to hear them. It would be easy to come into this place I have paid for but not yet earned and demand things I am not yet entitled to. It would be easy to “gut” this and “blow out” that as the people on home improvement shows are fond of doing. It would be easy to clothe each room in a shade of my liking (never studying the way light filters in and out of these rooms) and call it a day. Relationships worth having are not always easy and this one is no different. This house is old. It has seen many things. It has sheltered many families. The last occupants lived here over 35 years. I don’t know if houses grieve but I don’t think there is anything wrong with a moment of silence, of stillness, of reverence and remembrance to honor the memory of that family, and those before them.This house will outlive me and there is room for all of us here. No need to be disrespectful. No need to rush in and undo everything that was done before in the name of “making this house my own.” I can make my own memories here at my own pace along side the memories of those who came before me. So now I am something that is not always easy for me. I am quiet. I am still. I watch and I listen. I sit on kitchen counters, legs drawn up under my chin and listen to the birds. I roam the house during thunderstorms to see which room has the best acoustics (the laundry room of all places.) I observe rooms to see which has the best view (the upstairs bathroom overlooking the live oak.) Which has the best light (the “pink room” facing the church.) Which room draws me in (the yellow room overlooking the side yard.) Which room tells me what it wants to be (the red dining room that wants to be a yellow/gold jazz bar.) Which room has not yet revealed much (the master bedroom.) Where does my laptop come to rest most easily (the kitchen island.) I lie on floors and stare at ceilings Vitruvian Man style. Fingers outstretched the past just out of reach. I breathe in and try to match my heart to the heart of the house. I breathe out and am anxiously in the moment. The house and I are cruciforms. Circles and Squares. Symmetry and Harmony. Past and Present. I will my mind to be quiet and I will the house to speak. I will myself to be still and I will myself to listen.