Slow Cooking Memories

Walls. Ceilings. Doors. Windows.

A new beginning in a new city in a new state. Between the work required to transport myself here and the extensive writing waiting in my future I’m emptying boxes, arranging furniture, hanging curtains, and filling cupboards.

Making it feel like home.

Each day I’m inching closer to that end. There’s a shower curtain hanging in the bathroom and “female stuff” everywhere. In the bedroom, which is currently decorated in clutter and chaos, the bed’s head end is nearly six inches higher than the foot as the doctors directed. Apparently the last occupant was an NBA center because that’s how high the shelves are in the kitchen.

Yeah, lowering those shelves is on the “to do” list.Where the heart is.

And then there’s the large living room, it’s primary function more study/office than living (unless you’re a cat). I’m attending an online conference over the next several days and so I’ve concentrated my efforts there. The result is a desk area that’s largely organized and decorated. On the other side of the computer, though, is a disastrous sea of strewn boxes, unhung pictures, and even a bicycle waiting for its front wheel’s reattachment.

I dearly love this apartment so it’s exciting to see it coming together, becoming a reflection of Christina, and taking on a more homey appearance.

Becoming a home.

But not yet a home.

No matter how many ingredients you throw into the pot to create the home you desire it still takes memories to create that home and memories take time.

Oh, but we’re working on it…

…Misha making her way to the top of the bookcase behind me while I was working on a spooky installment of Last Word Before Dying. Fog. Darkness. A terrified Shayleen alone with someone she’s long known, but who has begun to transform…and then Misha dropped onto my chair from above and I lost one of the nine lives I don’t have.

…13 year-old Mr. Calvin chasing string around and over stacked boxes until I had to stop the game because he was ready to drop from exhaustion and my sides ached from laughing. It’s at least two years since I’ve seen him play so hard and I nearly cried seeing his more playful self resurrected.

…Me bending down to put shoes away in my closet and discovering a rogue spider on the wall right in front of my face. I fell over backwards screaming and then ran into the living room for a fly swatter (I have 5) before realizing I couldn’t remember where they were (they were all together on top of the washer). By the time I returned to the closet he was gone. I violently shook clothes and shoes, but to no avail. It’s been nearly a week since that day and he hasn’t made a return appearance. I suspect he met Misha.

Truly, we’re working on the memories and turning this small abode into a home one precious moment at a time. I look forward to summoning words in this place that sits at the heart of a beautiful city in the western Montana mountains. “Home is where the heart is” and this little apartment feels increasingly like a good place to settle my heart.

4 Replies to “Slow Cooking Memories”

  1. Some of my shelves are high too, we got a sturdy stepping stool…comes in real handy! It does take time to make a home and memories…each day can be something new. It sounds like this is where you should be, and I think you are going to be happy here. 🙂

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