Nesting

September 27, 2009

Jeremy and I fell asleep on the couches last night, and instead of moving to the bedroom when we woke up in the night, we decided to camp out there. It was a delicious feeling. We woke up, did our Sunday morning Starbucks drive-through (with Django in the backseat) and came home and went for a walk.

"Hey slow down champ!" Jeremy joked as we started out walking.

"Well. I thought we were walking for exercise," I said as I followed his direction and slowed down to a snail's pace, just to be a smart-ass.

"Very funny," he smiled.

"Hey, who am I?" I asked. We've played this game before. I slow my pace down, hunch over my shoulders and shorten my stride to about 4 inches.

"You're you, although I don't think you walked that fast when you were sick."

"Did you ever think we would be where we are now?" I asked, knowing that I didn't. I never thought I'd be healthy again. It just didn't seem possible.

"No," he said solemnly. The weather is turning here, slowly but surely. So are we.

When we got back home from our walk I continued in on my huge project that I started on Friday: organizing!! Call it fall fever, nesting, whatever. Whatever it is, it has its hold on me, tight. It started with me sitting in my study/craft room and thinking through what will need to be moved out and what space we will need when we have our new addition to our family. Sorting through things very quickly exploded into going through every closet and storage space in our home, stacking things in piles: 1) yard sale, 2) trash, 3) keep and re-organize. The house is a disaster right now. But that's okay! Because the visions in my head of what all my closets will look like when I'm done is motivating me.

This is an emotional process too you know. It absolutely is. It's cleaning up my life and getting ready for a new phase. Let me just tell you some of the memories that have been jostled around as I've been sorting. The first of them being the last yard sale we had, almost a year ago. My ostomy had been causing some problems, and I remember sitting outside in the carport and realizing my bag had sprung a leak. Jeremy stayed outside and manned the sale while I went inside and fixed the leak, cleaned myself up and went back outside. I remember wanting to show Jeremy that the incident wasn't going to get me down. He always worried so about me emotionally when I had problems with my bag. But that day I wanted to impress him. "No big deal. I took care of it." I was so proud. I don't even know if he knew how important that was to me that day. But it was.

There was a stack of cards in one closet that I found. They were cards and notes that were sent to me when I was in the hospital, some attached to flowers. I shuffled through them and smiled. Those cards kept me going. But what do I do with them now? Do I hold on? Do I let go? Will I forget if I let go? Is it okay to forget? In with the cards was a CD mix that Jeremy made for me while I was in the hospital: A Mix for Abby: Healing (for the heart and body . . . and mind). That I will hold on to and I'm actually listening to it right now. I put that CD in to listen to at night time when I was in the hospital and couldn't sleep. I remember it bringing me to tears. Sometimes I couldn't listen to it. I didn't believe there would be healing and it made me too sad.

I came across a scrapbook that I had made at the end of 2000 and the beginning of 2001. I totally forgot I had put that scrapbook together. I sat down on the couch next to Jeremy and showed it to him. Boy did we laugh, especially at the New Year's party photos that had a 70's theme. Everyone dressed accordingly. Too much!

I found a card my sister had given me six years ago. It was a good-bye card. We were both moving from Minneapolis where we had spent the previous year or so living only three miles from each other and were going to be living over 2000 miles apart. It almost made me cry to read it.

There in a box of mementos (movie ticket stubs, concert ticket stubs, newspaper clippings, etc.) was my VIP pass for the U2 concert in 2001 when I met Bono. And there was the picture of me sitting on his lap. Ahhhh . . . good times.

There were Django toys that had been hiding from us that I rediscovered. I found one and gave it to him. He's been carrying it around all morning. Right now he's napping with it by his head. Hilarious!

And I can't help but reflect on the highs and lows of life. The highs and lows that have made my life rich and good and full.