I’m alive.

by unfinishedthinking

I’m doing things I thought I’d never do again.  Important things, in the scheme of things.  I’ve seen and spent the night in Ginny’s new part-time home in Beacon, New York.  The property itself—Jason and Carley’s property—is a huge undertaking.  The two-acre compound includes a huge warehouse and a 10-room schoolhouse that’s bigger than I’d imagined.  The major house includes four two-bedroom living units.  That means four kitchens, four good-sized living and dining rooms, etc.  Taking care of all this is a job that’ll never be finished.  Like his father, Jason’s disorderly.  There are always piles of things that haven’t been put away. In some ways he’s worse than me, in some ways better: he’s much better at finding something in the chaos he creates.  I have no idea how he does it, but in the middle of massive disorganization he can sometimes be somehow organized.  Now he’s got plenty of room to spread stuff out.  We’ll see what happens. 

            Ginny’s big, third-story loft space, on the other hand, is cool and well-lit and manageable.    She’ll have fun fixing that up.

            Carley’s bakery is, as promised, charming and delicious.  It was good to see the steady Saturday morning traffic at the shop.  Lots of happy customers.  Carley let me steal a whole pile of New Yorkers I’d missed while I’ve been confined.  I’m a happy man.

            I’m also feeling like a surprisingly healthy man.  The stairs knocked it out of me, but I made it up to the third floor and down to the basement.  Ginny’s pointing out to people that most weeks now are better than the weeks a month ago.  They’re practically…heaven-sent.  (Don’t get me started.)

            When we were leaving, Ella gave me three goodbye hugs; usually she teases that she doesn’t want to give me any. She bosses Patti and Ginny around a lot.  Let’s dance! Let’s put on a show! Let’s make Rice Krispy Treats!   Thankfully, she expects less of me.  She knows I take a lot of naps and she’s used to me having the damn O2 setup, so she’ll usually gives me a pass on the more lively activities. But sometimes a girl’s gotta talk, you know?  And it’s not really talking if the people across the street can’t hear you.  So I’ve got to listen and respond (even when she doesn’t wait for the response) and I’ve got to at least watch the dance and yoga shows.  I think I’m getting off easy, but just listening to that girl is exhausting.

            Everyone should have a family like mine.