New Life

Tonight Isabel and I took Saul on his first walk around the neighborhood. We were lured out of the house by the incredibly warm evening and the smell of summer (thanks to practically every house in the neighborhood having a freshly-mowed lawn today). Just two weeks ago, despite the forsythia being in bloom, everything else still looked dead and bare and it was definitely more winter than spring. But tonight, it's nearly 90 degrees, the dogwoods are just beginning to bloom, the tulips are up, the grass is a finally a rich, green color, it's light until nearly 8pm., and there aren't even any mosquitoes out yet. It's even better than full-blown summer--it's spring.

The first winter we lived here I really (and please accept my hyperbole) hated life. It was one of the hardest times in my life. It turns out, I'm not so good with changes. But, hey, I had my reasons....and they were very real at the time.

First, I had a new house, but I felt overwhelmed by the amount of work that is home ownership--especially in a house that for several years hadn't received much in the way of TLC.

Next, let's face it, winter time is pretty darn gray. Since I grew up in a place where even during winter the sky is often bright and sunny and blue even after just snowing (ok, when there's no inversion), and then add that to having lived seven years in the climate paradise that is the Bay Area, I was having a hard time with the gray.

And, let's face it again, winter is cold. I'm not good with cold. Actually, I really, really, really, especially almost more than anything else, hate being cold. And unfortunately if it's less than, like, 61 degrees, I'm cold. Oh, and my new house that I was loving so much basically hovered around 61 degrees.

Also, I was pregnant. Like, first trimester pregnant. Do I have to say any more?

But mostly, I was lonely. I couldn't give up on the life I'd had before. The life where we had a wealth of friends who we loved like family. The life where I was unburdened by a house or kids in school, so my days were basically about going to local museums, or playgrounds, or meeting friends for lunch, or hiking in the surrounding regional parks, or going to San Francisco or the beach. We loved our ward. I had become dependent on the vibrant food culture, both in grocery shops and in restaurants. Our weekends were full of social activities, usually heavy with both food and friends. Sure, the nostalgia may be flowing thick right now, but there is no exaggeration to say that it was such a full area to live in, and I made every effort to take advantage of it. More than anything, it was just a great time of life.

So that first winter I felt incredibly isolated and lonely in my new suburban house. I felt like it was hard to make friends and that I went days without anyone calling me. I felt like the area had little to offer me by way of filling my days with interesting places I could take my kids. It was months before I had a calling at church, and so I felt that the ward couldn't care less if we were in it or not.

Sure, I see now (and I even recognized it then) that I was having some serious pride problems. But nonetheless, I suffered.....out loud....and often....and to anyone who asked...and even to those who didn't. (Poor Adam--he's probably the one who really suffered.)

Well, where is this all going.....

Basically, I think that I was saved by Spring. That year we went to Boston to see our old neighbors for Easter (and to get a sympathetic ear for all of my suffering, of course). Adam flew home after the holiday weekend, but I stayed a few extra days with the kids to sight see, so I was gone for nearly a week. When I drove home, I remember vividly still, coming into the neighborhood and seeing the newly bloomed dogwood trees--and my neighborhood is full of dogwood trees--and it took my breath away. I had no idea what a dogwood tree even was, and now I was surrounded by them. Their blossoms seemed almost otherworldly, they were so beautiful.

And in a way I felt like they were all for me; they were telling me it was time to come out of my self-pitying funk and be reborn into the world of the living.

This year was another long winter, mostly thanks to being pregnant. And it's been seven weeks now since the baby came, and even though I've had lots of help and care, I can't say that they've been easy, emotionally or physically. It's just how it is.


So I've been waiting for the bloom on the dogwoods to return; in a way so that I can return as well.

It's time again.