Moving Back Home
Every writer I know can recite lines from favorite and important movies or books, not me. I have committed to memory Yeats, "Youth is wasted on the young" and the line from STATE AND MAIN, "That just happened". Both fit today.
I'm going to out myself here. I have missed a few weeks of posting because I have been tackling the downtown of my life: moving back home. This has been a culture shock on so many levels. My 5 year old daughter loves it and thinks it's the coolest thing ever. For me it means going back to the scene of the crime where there are no witnesses though everybody had to have seen what happened. Up, down and sideways, it's been a major shift.
I am not accustomed to someone doing my laundry for me, cooking food, sorting my mail or getting my daughter ready for bed. Sounds ungrateful when I say it's not the happy making help I want it to be. I'm not sure where half of my clothes are and I feel guilty if I don't fold them right away but I also don't get to choose when they are washed, dried or folded: I don't get to choose when I do what. I am ever so grateful for the food they buy, but I really am not happy about the copious amounts of processed foods- meats, grains and vegetables you name it that my daughter who is allergic to cow milk and has auto-immune challenges is consuming. She doesn't have a room of her own, her bed time and any sort of a routine, save the rituals I impose when we are relatively autonomous in the morning, is non-existent and she is sleeping late every morning.Continued on the next page