opening at the close, part ii

I remember sitting in my office at the rental house in Crystal, Minnesota, and typing out 'opening at the close' as a blog title back in September of 2016. I thought I was so clever, tying it all together with a comparison to Harry Potter and the message on the Golden Snitch that held one of the Deathly Hallows. Derek and I had moved up from Austin, TX, life was getting great, and I was happy. Cleverness felt authentic and easy at that point, so I used it. 

Yes... I was so very clever. A year later, I would be writing about Derek moving out after our breakup that summer. My cleverness was effectively dashed.

Life ended up being big in Minneapolis, y'know? 

Couple heartbreaks, couple houses, couple jobs. Medical issues for myself and my family, a new nephew and niece from my brother (and honorary nieces and nephews from friends), and, of course, the loss of some loved ones. Looking back at six and a half years condensed into a small portal on my laptop, it feels big. 

It didn't at the time... at the time, it all felt horribly small and mundane. I feel like when I moved to Minnesota, though I was 30, I wasn't an adult. Not yet, at least. It took the heartbreaks of various traumatic forms, the houses and adventures they brought, and the health crap to hone it all into a cohesive experience.

Then again, I didn't leave Minnesota feeling like an "adult," either. I felt old. Rather, I felt older, and perhaps a bit worse for wear. When I packed up the house and turned the car on to leave, the utter and complete emptiness I felt was compounded by the emptiness I felt for the city in general. I never learned my way around Minneapolis, and I maybe went to neighboring St. Paul a handful of times during my tenure. I just didn't care to, and I can't explain why. Maybe a part of me always knew it would be temporary and a time for growth, and maybe part of me just knew none of it would take hold of me. But never really getting your footing sort of leaves you feeling adrift.

Leaving the ranch on moving day.

After retail had come to a close and I started working my remote job as a Technical Writer, it made sense to leave. As luck (and my own planning) would have it, I was able to move back to Wisconsin on March 15th. That might seem like an arbitrary detail, but it was the 26th anniversary of my family moving from California to Wisconsin. And I made a video project you may have heard of called 26 Golden Things, so really... it was kismet. Jonathan and I packed up the U-Haul, the cats, and my car, and we hit the road. 

I didn't look back. And y'know what, I still haven't looked back, seven months on.

As it tends to happen, at the time, I felt like I was turning over to face a bright(er) new future. There was a component to this life choice that felt weird to me, and it was how in this 'new' future, the one where I would move back to a hometown where I had lived for 18 years... and that component was how perhaps this new adventure was a bigger unknown than anything else in recent memory. Maybe because a lot was riding on it? 

Maybe I had attached too much significance to moving back to where the bulk of my friends and family exist. 

Could it be a mistake? Sure. And could I feel like I regressed to some old version of myself, ultimately getting angry at the fact that I did it so willingly? Yeah, sure to that as well. But I doubted the last part.

The Estate

I closed on my new house, here-to-for known as The Estate, a few days after moving home. This blog is not dedicated to introducing you to the Estate, necessarily, but I wanted to show it to you above for just a LITTLE context. Does it still look like that? Nope. Will it change outside (and inside) over the next year? Absolutely. But that picture was the Estate when the keys became mine.

Work on the house started within a few days, and that work didn't come even remotely close to stopping for four whole months. And they were very long months, where I didn't have the time or any desire to just TAKE the time to stop and think about my life, who I was, how I was changing... nothing. They were months spent with my nose down, just doing the work and pushing myself forward more and more. 

I would rise for work at 5am, spend the next 8 hours at my desk working on documentation, and then hurry to the Estate. My parents would be wrapping up whatever tasks they had been on for the day, and then I would take over. I'd stay until it got dark because, for much of this time, there were no ceiling lights installed to work under. Then I would drive home, usually around 8, eat some leftovers for dinner, shower, and go to bed. Then, do it all over again. And then on the weekend, be at the house by 7am and work until, you guessed it, about 8 pm. This went on for months.

It wasn't healthy, and I know that. It was a coping mechanism and a distraction. I'd like to say it was a time for me to break free from some of the spells that bewitched me in the past, and to an extent, it was. To another, more deeply rooted end... I'm still under a few. Some of them, I'd prefer not to be.

Mid-way through the renovations, my siblings and I decided to throw a party for our parents in August. It would be the 50th anniversary of their marriage, and we wanted to commemorate that (seeing as they would never choose to do so themselves (they don't like attention very much)). My brother and his entire clan would be flying up from Texas, my sister and her family would be providing a large portion of the food and drinks, and I would be providing the venue and coordination of all the things. We had family coming in from Indiana and a very old friend coming in from California.

I think to say I bit off more than I could chew would be an understatement, all things considered. By no means did I ever once think I don't want to do this party, but I'd be remiss if I said it was a happy 'lil breeze to get ready for and oh-so-totally-challenge-free. Having carpal tunnel surgery in the middle was not necessarily the anecdote to success, either.

My initial plan with the Estate was to get the BIG stuff done to make it possible for me to move in, and then just take it easy and poke along getting stuff done. This is hilarious in hindsight because I'm just not that person and never have been. For some reason, though, I thought this time I could be. Like a fool. 

Once it was decided that I would be hosting, I barreled forward with a reckless abandon that even shocked me. And the money I spent...

You guys.

The money.

Woof.

In the end I knew the bonus of it was that I would also have a huge portion of my house "done." So yeah... you essentially kill yourself getting it ready to roll in an attempt to impress your friends and family, and then YOU get to enjoy it afterward. 

I was getting such a tremendous amount of help from my parents, the whole way, from physical labor to the use of their tools to their generous donations of building materials, and allllll the while, I had to keep it a secret as to why I was moving forward with such ferocity. For the things I needed help from my dad on (very specifically for the party (leaving out a ton of his other contributions, by the way) I needed the kitchen cabinets built for the refrigerator and oven wall). I had to be gentle in how pushy I was because there should not have been an obvious reason as to why I wanted this wrapped up. Here's the briefest of brief previews below because, as I said, this blog is not about the Estate. Stop asking, geeze!

Also, this was only at the time; it has been finished since then (trim pieces connecting it to the ceiling, etc).

Kitchen changes

When the week of celebrations with family began, I picked up my best friend Katie from the airport that Monday. She would be the initial distraction (and my helper) ahead of the party. Because certainly, we wouldn't be planning anything for my parents if I had company. A couple days later, I drove to Indiana to gather my aunt Sally, and then dropped her off with my parents. 

That shocked the shit out of them. 

Then, that evening, they came to my house for dinner and found my brother, his family, and the granddaughter they had not yet met. 

That shocked the shit out of them. 

A couple days later, we had our big celebration, which also revealed my mom's friend from high school (our California traveler) and my dad's cousin (another Indiana traveler). 

That shocked the shit out of them.

Notice the theme of shock here.

We pulled it all off pretty astoundingly well, all things considered. They had a few suspicions along the way, but as those appeared, I squished them flat. Do I like to lie? No, and as a general rule of thumb, I always tell the truth. That doesn't mean I can't lie, hahaha, or can't lie well when I choose to do so.

This event was meant to be the culmination of my moving home. It would be the crowning achievement of all the extraordinarily hard work, tying it up with a pretty bow. Not to say I wouldn't continue working on the Estate afterward, or that I wouldn't be working on myself anymore either... but it was the first real milestone of a marker. When the dust from that week settled, the last planes had departed, and the rain clouds filling the sky the latter part of the weekend started to clear away, I could not help but feel immense gratitude. 

I am grateful for the people who showed up for me... be it by helping me along my path, helping with the house, or helping to make the anniversary party so special. It was a labor of love that created so much joy for two very, very special people who deserve it so much.

Right now, I'm sitting in a coffee shop that I walked to, a couple blocks from my house, and I feel like I can breathe again. The pain in my hand has subsided from not working on the house for a couple weeks. The air has a certain crispness to it that is a certain and sure reminder of fall being here, and the sun is shining on the leaves, changing from green to yellow to rust.

There aren't many days where I feel purely and simply "happy," but today is one of them. 

I really like that about today.

Katie asked me the other day if I was happy that I moved home, and the question caught me off guard. I couldn't answer. I guess now, as I sit and think about it, I still can't formulate a concrete answer. On the surface, I am happy that I came back, yes. That part hasn't changed. On a deeper level, there's uncertainty around my decision and whether moving back was the right way forward in life. It'll take a lot longer for me to unravel that mystery. But at the very least, of all things, I am so happy to be near my parents and to have had the last several months working alongside them so much and getting to know them so well. 

That part of the equation cannot be measured because it's priceless. 

I'm happy to be near my sister and her family, and to be so close to a few of my best friends. I'm also happy living in the Estate.

The answer I can provide with complete certainty is that I finally feel like Minnesota is in my past. It brought me some amazing friends, it brought me some terrific laughter, and that is the space I will allow it to occupy in my heart. Beyond that, I must draw the covers and put it to bed. I remember a quote I've always loved: "You can't start the next chapter of your life if you keep re-reading the last one."

One book closes and another is now open. Ciao for now (c: