Friday, November 09, 2012

Pining for the fjords

We're all moved and settled. Pretty much, anyway. I love our new home. I love the process of making it ours...tweaking things to work...for us. Changing things around from the original chaos that is "just getting all the crap in the house" so it's cohesive and makes sense.

That being said, I find myself gazing out the window that's over our sink...seemingly lost in thought...but really just missing the river. Now all I have to capture my attention is the elderly (look who's talkin, here?) neighbor's backyard with the occasional fat, fluffy squirrel or JoAnn their old, stiff-legged beagle who barks just to clear her throat.

 I do miss the river. I miss her moods. What's she like today? Is she Dark, angry and choppy? Or as calm and smooth as a pane of glass?

I miss the animals. The squirrels there seemed more entertaining. I miss the huge, slow-flying egrets...and the clunky, prehistoric-looking pelicans. I even miss the pesky, yapping gulls...watching them swoop and dip so gracefully. I know I'll miss eagle-watching this winter. Their high-pitched "chattering" in the early morning; watching as they dive and catch big catfish for breakfast, pulling them up on the ice and tearing into them with their powerful beaks. Gore on ice. Nice.

I even found myself missing our little blue house with it's enormous picture window overlooking the world and the noisy, rattle-ty-squealy water pump. So I drove by there today on my way home from work. Slowly.

And I discovered something. I still miss the river. But it's no longer "our" little blue house. Even though there's someone else there now, it looks...sorta sad. And neglected.

And as I drove down our "new" street, past the front of our home...ours...I thought to myself, "I'm home".

And the river, she will always be there for me. I can go see her every, single day if I want to. And next summer, we'll spend time on the boat...on her. And when I die...30 or 40 years from now (I say with crossed fingers)...I will join her and become part of her.

And I will pine for the fjords no longer. ancestors were Vikings. Cut me a break.


At 4:10 PM , Blogger pamibe said...

Totally understand! Happy to hear that you love your new house, though!

At 3:55 PM , Blogger MrsDoF said...

I grew up in a mill town on the Ohio River. the horns of the tugboats are what I miss most.
Today, we got a new furnace. It is so much more quiet than the 24 year old it replaced. It won't take long to appreciate this little bit of peace


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