November 13, 2013

"Home, Smoky Home"

Most of what I loved about the house was the tree in the front yard.  Next what I loved was the owner. Next what I loved, once inside, was the sweetness of the house within - the love that seemed to be imbued there.  What I didn't notice as much was the smell of cigarette smoke and the stains from nicotine on every surface.  That came later, once I'd bought the house and experienced it empty, without the heart and presence of the (former) owner. 

It was tremendous, the task of de-smoking the house, from ceiling to floor;  hours and hours of washing, scrubbing, painting, cleaning, pulling up, and throwing out.  It was disheartening to have the first of my senses, upon entering the house, assaulted by the smell of smoke.  With a sensitive olfactory and a strong dislike of cigarette smoke, it seemed I had really overlooked a huge obstacle.  So I did what I could to mask or clear as much as possible, trusting that it would dissipate over time.  And it had  begun to, though nowhere near completely.  It was still in the dishwasher, the hall linen closet, the bedroom carpet......It was frustrating and annoying.  I wanted it GONE! 

Or so I thought......

Out on the (enclosed) porch Saturday morning, I felt the chair arm was wet.  Not just damp, but wet.  Earlier, I'd picked up some paper from the table next to it, and it was moist.  "Oh, well," I thought, "it's Florida.  Everything's moist!"  But the light bulb went off, and I looked up at the ceiling - ugh.  There hung droplets of water from the heavy rain the night before.  NOT what a new homeowner (not this one, anyway!) wants to see.  "Hmmm...will have someone come and look at it in the week."  Luckily, it's a flat roof and separate from the rest of the house, which has a relatively new shingled roof atop it.  And then I was off, out of town for the day.

As I was driving, it struck me in the oddest way - the house was crying!  It was missing its owner as much as she'd been sad to move out of it.  Her husband had died less than a year earlier, her health was beginning to deteriorate, she missed her husband, and now, she was having to move to Tennessee to live with her daughter.  She was sad.  She loved the house, the memories it held, and all the years that it had belonged to her family.  Her parents bought it brand new 57 years ago and lived it in until they passed.  She had moved into it to help care for them, prior, and she and her husband took great pride in it and great care of it since they moved in some ten years ago.  She had a lot of love and energy invested in her house/home!  So she was sad to leave it, and now, I saw, her house was sad without her.  And there I was, cleaning and clearing, washing and rushing, to get out all signs of her presence and to make it 'my own.'  I felt so sad!  And a bit ashamed and embarrassed, too.  Since I loved the house so much, it was as though I could feel its pain.  Her house was sweet and lovely because of her!  How silly I was to have wanted it all out! 

So I silently said a prayer of apology, asked the house for forgiveness, and decided to just chill out and enjoy what parts of her were still there in the house.  Not only even the smoke, but now, especially the smoke, as that was really all that remained.  All of her possessions and special touches were gone.  Everything had been stripped bare, save a few curtains in the living room that she'd left behind (and that I'd since given away).

When I got home later that night, I walked around the house, just taking in all of its sweetness and tenderness, and giving back the same.  The next day in the shower, I smelled smoke, and began to cry.  In that moment, I missed and loved her tremendously.  It felt good to smell it, to know that her presence was still there, and that not only could I tolerate the lingering smoke smell, but could now actually appreciate it!

That has been two weeks ago, and oddly, since then, I have not only not been bothered by the smoke smell, but really only remember smelling it a couple of times.  And I quit trying so hard to make the house mine, make it me.  I figure that will happen on its own, when the house accepts me, welcomes me, and adopts me as its new caretaker and tenant!        

Conversations on the Porch

October 2, 2012

Conversaciones en el Porche

We’re neighbors for over a year now, and, I’ve come to realize, sisters as well. She is quiet and always (almost always) smiling, knows (apparently) almost no English, keeps mostly to herself and her family, and really loves to laugh. And, I realize now, to also just be happy, and to see everyone else happy, too.

When I’d first moved in, after getting to know her some, I asked if I could borrow her washer sometimes, thinking that would be no problem. We share a back porch, and she and her family have the washer and dryer that are hooked up to the only outside water source available in the 8plex where we live. “No.” NO?! But we were just getting along so well!"  It hurt my feelings and embarrassed me some, but it didn’t get in the way of our conversations when we’d meet on the back porch. She does a lot of laundry and I do a lot of cooking; my kitchen door opens out onto the porch where the washer and dryer are, so when we see each other, there’s always conversation. “What are you eating?” “How’s your day off?” Always something to get us off and running. We chat en español, as she is shy about using any English, and I’m fortunate to be bilingual (with a history of living next door to non English-speaking Mexican families ~ a real plus in my language development!).

Sometimes, she’ll get going on some topic with verve, gusto, and speed, and I won’t really know if she’s talking about upset stomachs or removing wallpaper! Mostly, though, we have great conversation and vocabulary lessons, with words like “stilts” and “burps” that keep them colorful! A lot of times, she uses a word that’s different than the one I use to mean the same thing. “Oh, si¢ , es igual” (oh, yeah, it’s the same), she assures me. I told her I was going to write a story and title it, “Lessons on the porch.”

A couple of months ago, she actually knocked on my door, and asked if I could give her a back massage, as her shoulder was really sore. She made no mention of dinero or paga, so I was a little put out (still a sting from the no washer thing, probably), but told her “Sure - En una hora.” (See you in an hour.) On the table she was really quiet, and as I was working on her shoulder, right by her heart area, she started crying. It surprised me! I’d only ever seen her laughing, so this threw me off. Embarrassed, sad, and sore, she took the offered Kleenex and through tears and snorts, told me how worried she was for her daughter, who, living in Mexico, was soon to have a baby….”and as a mother, I really want to be there with her, but I can’t because of my job and my work visa.” (At least I think this is what she said! She may have run into a wall or work or been chased by an alligator. I can’t be sure.) Either way, I massaged some more, and she cried a lot more. Afterwards, she was much more relaxed, and I was most grateful that I hadn’t let my ego dismiss such a huge opportunity. I’ve been repaid for that massage several times over.

The next morning when I saw her son and asked how she was doing, he excitedly told me, “Ud. le curo¢!” (You healed her!)  Oh, the power of caring and crying.

When I recently went to NM for several days, and left in somewhat of a rush, she called me a few days later to see where I was - that she was worried because she hadn’t seen me for many days. I felt loved.

My birthday this year fell on Evacuation Day, were Hurricane Isaac to hit us (which, on Saturday, was the case - our island was dead center, so to speak, of the storm’s path). I had been in denial all week prior, but was prompted by a call from my sister to ‘get prepared’ for what may happen. She sounded so serious and sure, it freaked me out and I went into panic mode! I was darting around like a rat in a maze, unable to focus, gathering and packing, and buying batteries and water (everyone here is ape for batteries and water! And filling up their gas tanks…). The weirdest part is that not many people seemed too bothered by the whole thing. My aforementioned neighbor had lived through a level SIX hurricane in Mexico that blew the roof off her house! So this little wimpy, limping rainstorm moving in meant nothing to her. But evidently, she could see my terror (and what I now realize was loneliness and fear of facing it alone), and took it to heart. On Monday, my birthday, I had started to calm down, knowing that I had friends, places to go, and lots of people praying for our island, and that I - and everyone - would be OK. The storm had started moving west of us, so we would likely miss the direct hit. AND I was still prepared, with bags and boxes of canned goods, WATER AND BATTERIES!, candles, clothes, toiletries, and more, packed and ready to go. Just in case…….

This time, she knocked on the front door!
“Hola!”
A smile on her face and a bag of goodies in her hand, she came in and sheepishly handed me the ‘Happy Birthday’ bag of soap, lotion, bracelets, and more. The best part? She didn’t know it was my birthday! When I told her, she thought I was kidding, until I showed her some cards I’d received.
“You know that bag says happy birthday in English, right?”
“Si¢ ,” she said a bit shyly, still with a disbelieving look on her face.
“And you didn’t know it was my birthday?”
“No.”
“So you were just giving me gifts??!!!”
Again, simply, “Si¢ .”
Big hugs, laughter, and smelling of scented presents in the bag. Again, I felt very loved and cared about. Just when I think I haven’t any friends, there is one who’s been there all along, and literally, right in front of me!!!

I told her that I was changing the name of my story to “La angel en el Porche.” “The Angel on the Porch.”

Our days continue to come and go, with work, laundry, meals, and more tears and laughter, and each day provides a new story and a deeper friendship. We still have several colorful, animated conversations “en el porche,” with my comprehension improving and her confidence emerging. (She’s starting to use more English!). I think I’ll rename this, my story, “Friends on the Porch.” “Amigas en el Porche”

April 12, 2013

So, I think it’s all in the surrender – to the process of life, to our being exactly where we need to be (and maybe even secretly, want to be), and to the faith that we are not in harm’s way all the time.  That we really are creating and have created the best-case scenario for what we need now, to further us in our enlightenment, or something close along that line.  

Car trouble and car repairs just send me into a hot frenzy. (So does dental trouble, but that’s a whole other story!!)   Literally, my body goes hot and I break into a terrible sweat, anticipating the worst.  The worst being… I don’t even know!!   I just anticipate   something horrible.  (Which never happens….)

Money figures in prominently, for sure. ‘ I won’t have enough to pay for my car or it will put me in other dire straits.’  This used to be true, many years ago, not now, but the fear still runs through me/my mind every time something goes wrong with my car.  Knock wood, I have had nearly no trouble for three years, since I bought my current car.  It’s a 1999, though, and starting to feel its age.  It had 100,000 miles when I bought it, and I’ve driven across the country in it, as well as labored it with daily driving and a few lengthy road trips, so I make sure to keep it maintained (oil, fluids, belts, tires, etc.) regularly.  I know that my radiator is starting to go, has developed a crack, and will soon need to be replaced.  Ugh.  I’ve made an appointment to get it done next week.  And I know that it will all be OK, that I can afford it, that the mechanics will do a good job, and that it won’t be the first in a series of automotive maladies…… 

But back to the surrender thing.  And trust, really…  I took my car for an oil change/check up yesterday, as I had the day off, and had it on my ‘to do’ list for a tad too long.  Went to the place I’d been previously, but found an hour+ wait too long to waste, so was headed home, intending to return first thing next morning when I could get in right away.  But on the way home, I remembered a place a few folks had referred me to - pulled over and called them, found  they could take me right then, AND they were three blocks from where I was!!!!  AND their price was less than what I would have paid at the original stop.  Bingo.

Besides that, the waiting room was nice!!!  Spacious, clean, nice furniture, live plants,   and a clean bathroom!  AND the gal at the desk let me fax a few pages that I'd been driving around with for a week, trying to find a place to do that.  Four for four.  They weren't the fastest team in town, but I figured they were thorough.  When finished, the mechanic gave me a detailed checklist/evaluation sheet that I read once I got home.  One of the notes was "oil leak....need engine steam cleaned to determine source.  $39.95."  I'm thinking, "Pyeah, like I'll get THAT done.  They want to replace a bulb over my license tag for $22.00.  I don't think so..."  And that was that.  Paperwork on my desk to deal with later.  

This morning was that 'later.'   Due at work in 20 minutes, I cranked the car, pulled out of the driveway, and a mile away, smelled some burny smell and started seeing smoke.  Yikes!!!  "Maybe it's just oil from yesterday burning off.  I'll go on to work and take care of it tomorrow."  And then more smoke and the engine light.  Yikes again!  Three years, this car has never popped the engine light!  "I"m turning around and heading back  to the mechanic."  Called into work and canceled my appointment (this is a trust thing in itself.:  the appointment was with someone I really did not want to work with!), drove straight to the shop, and huffed into the front office.  Mr. Personality (not) at the desk asked me my name, then started typing with two fingers for a full minute, answered a phone call and talked to  another mechanic about a green Honda, and typed in another few hundred keystrokes while I stood  waiting, feeling annoyed and anxious.  The fear in me took my mind to "WHY is this happening?  What did I do wrong?  What's next?!?"  Natural first reaction.  Car thing.  Until I stopped and thought, "Well, if it's happening, it's probably OK, and might even be good.  All Divine, right?"  Instantly, I felt better.   (Maybe not 100% better, but better!)

Turns out the mechanic suspected the new oil filter put in yesterday "must have a pin hole and the oil leaked out, all over your engine.  That's what you smelled - it's right here by the exhaust system.  I'll pull it and see.  And we'll power steam clean your engine before you take off so it won't keep smelling."  Hmmm......that sounded good!  

Indeed, it was what he'd suspected.  "That's happened two times in thirty-six years."  So I got a second oil filter, another inspection, a free steam cleaning, a big apology, and, for my trouble, a ten percent discount on my radiator replacement next week (which would be significant savings!).  So really, what I'm saving with the discount and the steam cleaning, I made up the lost wages of the morning.

What are the odds?  It made me smile and so appreciate the flawless design and humor of Divinity, and having been able to change my attitude of fear and anxiety to one of surrender and acceptance.  Somehow, it almost feels like that is what brought about the magical outcome.  

I'm guessing I'll have another chance to try it out.  Maybe I'll make a dental appointment for next week, see what happens!