Have you ever felt that you were in a runaway car and all you could do was hold on and see where it stopped?

A month ago, moving was the very last thought on my mind. I love my house that I live in now. I have a history with it and my landlord is one of my closest friends. The downside is that Shelby lives with my parents an hour away and I don't get to see her too often. I miss out on a lot of the day to day stuff with her and I just miss the fuck out of her. I casually mentioned wishing she could live with me again the day I had surgery and well whaddaya know, the gods have moved heaven and earth and I'm going to have my family intact again.

Sunday I was going crazy being in this house another day. Since surgery and the complications that followed, I've truly just felt too crappy to do much other than move from the bed to the couch and back. I'm getting my strength back and just wanted to do something-so I drove down to my parents town to look around for houses. Idle time wasting for me. Or so I thought. Driving through the Historic South District we stumbled on a cute house for rent.

Peeking through the windows and tramping around the back yard, we fell in love. A long front porch with a swing. All heart pine floors polished to a high gloss. A breakfast room with built in cabinets. A huge fenced in back yard with a clothes line so I can hang out my linens. A 2 car "garage" in the back that was probably used to house a buggy back when the house was built in 1915. A perfectly restored vintage house. Shelby nearly pees her pants. We go back to my parents house and look it up online. The rent is affordable. It has 2 bathrooms. This is doable.
So, I rented it yesterday. My parents are over the moon. My mother can pick up The E on Fridays to spend the night with her and my dad. They were integral in raising the big 3, but have been somewhat uninvolved with him (my choice) so they're delighted to be as big a part of his life (read: controlling) as they were with the others. I nervously asked my dad yesterday if it was all moving too fast. He said absolutely not, finish my sandwich because we had to meet the realtor at the house to see the interior.

He's crazy about the house. I am too. I think. I have a full dressing room off my bedroom. I have a fireplace in my bedroom with window seats on either side. I have a creaky staircase polished to within an inch of it's life. An enormous gas stove and every vintage period touch I could dream of. A library with a full bathroom off it that I can make a guest room or an office. Children galore in the neighborhood and a park right across the street. I'm 2 blocks from the river and I can sit in my backyard and watch the fireworks on the 4th of July. This town LOVES festivals and I will be able to stroll over to the Magnolia Festival in October, the Azalea Festival in March and the Blue Crab Festival over Memorial Day weekend. The trendy downtown shops stay open till 9 every 3rd Friday and the Farmer's Market opens at 7 on Saturdays. I can walk the 3 blocks to St Monica's for mass on Sundays and then back to have Sunday dinner with my family.

Ahhhh. My family. I adore my father. He's stern but loving. Curmudgeonly yet funny. He's always quietly trying to make up for the sins of omission he committed when I was a child. My mother. Controlling and passive aggressive. Wait-strike that. Controlling and agressive. Really has no concept of boundaries. Will weep over the sins she committed when I was a child but always peeking out between her fingers to see if I am telling her it's ok, I understand, no worries anymore, hey ho look at me-I'm fine now!

I really think that's my biggest knot in my stomach over this entire situation. Rather than moving further from her and continuing to gently saw at the apron strings, I'm tying the noose tighter around my neck.

Thursday August 23, 2007 - 10:23am (EDT)