Posted by: morrowsl | January 27, 2019

From My Window, Revisited

I started this blog, my first, as a means of chronicling the events and happenings in and around my home in the city. We lived in the same house for over thirty years. Our three kids and one niece followed each other through the schools in our neighborhood. We had the same neighbors, at least across the street and on one side. We shopped at the local Tom Thumb, at both its original and new locations. Everything we needed was, literally, within two miles of that house. And it was oftentimes so incredibly boring!

The interstate flew by our back yard. We were touched by crime, repeatedly. We were code violators because we had a car parked in our driveway, behind the house, out of view, that the city inspector assumed didn’t run. Our street was about a quarter mile long and just so happened to be wide and flat and perfect for topping out your maximum speed.

Every year or two, we would abandon the city for the sanctity of our family farm. It was a long drive. Sometimes we drove directly there and sometimes we tacked on some sightseeing to break the monotony of a drive we could do in our sleep. After the kids were gone, we started taking trips to the coast. Escapism at its finest.

Eventually, Mike’s work caused a relocation, for him. I stayed in the house in the city. I worked for awhile, but abandoned employment to help take care of our grandson. I drove down to San Antonio when Mike was living there. And to Oklahoma City as well. He made the drive, weekly, from whichever city he was living in. We were both living bachelor lives with married benefits and issues.  Two dwellings with utilities. Two grocery bills. Too much distance to correct the mistake when it’s discovered something got left behind and you’re already 100 miles away.  Too much distance between him in a crisply cool apartment and me in a house with a broken air conditioner.

I got into the habit of waking up well before daylight and cleaning the house. There were times when the vacuum cleaner would be running at 4:00am and the washing machine well after midnight.
He got into the habit of doing his own dishes and laundry.

It seems that all of those events occurred a lifetime ago.

Living, as we now do, well away from the city and practically in each other’s pockets, we’ve been forced to adjust. On the upside, we can go about our days outside without the constant thrum of the interstate bellowing in our ears. I can wear my pajamas to walk down to feed the chickens or sit on my porch.  He can turn the shop television all the way up without worry the neighbors will call the cops. We don’t even know when the trash has been picked up or the mail dropped off.
On the downside, anything we need – gas, groceries, dinner cooked by someone else, feed, medicine, friends or family – requires a drive of ten to ninety minutes. We can’t hear the civil defense sirens. In case of emergencies, we have us, and possibly Captain Neighbor Boy and/or Director Neighbor Girl, depending on the day and/or time of day.

I am still the early riser. I still enjoy getting my chores done early in the day.
Mike has taken retirement to a new level, starting his days at midday or later.
I can no longer run the vacuum or washing machine before noon or after 10:00pm.
He never wanted to be a farmer, but now owns two tractors and several implements.
We have had to learn how to live together again. From sleeping in a smaller bed to sharing a larger bathroom. I have had to start cooking again. He has given up boxed dinners. We both get a lot more exercise than we once did. We could both use a lot more.

I remember telling someone, well before we had this place, that I wanted to be like my grandma. My dad’s parents built a small house on a hill above the Brazos River when my grandpa retired. They had a garden and orchard. They fished the river for catfish and crappie. They only came into the city for doctor’s appointments or family visits.
Once, while visiting my grandparents at their house on the river, I heard the back screen door slap open, then closed, and peeked out the window just in time to see my grandma hoist her dress up over her back, run her hands down the back of her underwear, and scratch her butt with complete abandon.

I doubt I’ll start wearing house dresses. And I probably wouldn’t scratch so recklessly.  But the very idea that I could makes me exceedingly happy.

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Responses

  1. This made me smile SO much!! Such a 180 for you two, but you’ve handled it so well. But I have a request: one morning, when you’re on your way down to see the girls, I want you to recreate your grandma’s action. Just so you can say you did it!! ❤ (You might want to wait until it's a tad warmer, though.)

    • I can’t promise…


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