Familiar Things

Getting used to a new home takes some time.

When you move without any planning, and then choose a house without much reason, you probably will find that things are not quite a perfect fit for you.

Joey and I lucked out with nearly matching furniture.  We only had to buy two new things when we got down here—a credenza for the living room for the large TV to set on, and a new dining room table.  Luckily, all his bookcases were black, so a great match for my tables, desk and other items in the living room, including my glacier grey leather sofa and charcoal grey recliner.  

The kitchen is a whole other matter though.  First, while spacious in the center area, there are not enough cabinets, the top ones are far too high, even for 6'5" Joey to reach, and half of the lower ones have no depth to them.  The amount of counter space, especially to work on, is sadly inadequate. And don't even get me started on not having enough outlets. 

Even with us buying a huge pantry for the area just off the kitchen, we still do not have half the space I had in Rapids for my kitchen wares, so much stays stored around the corner in the garage on shelves. You have heard of an "appliance garage?"  Um, yeah, I have that!  My Cuisinart Panini maker shares space with my Salad Shooter, blender, the juicers, the car and the washer/dryer.  Just one of the many reasons I look forward to our own house next year when this lease is up!

Tomorrow I take down my autumn decos and after a good house cleaning, I start putting out my Christmas things.  I will probably not change out my autumn leaf dishes for the "Cabin in the Snow" dishes yet, but it will not be long.

Anyway, we all know that when you move, especially this far from what had been home, nothing is familiar.  Not the house, not the streets, certainly not the towns, cities and stores.  I remember going into Walmart when we first arrived and loving that it felt like the one back "home." Finally something felt right, something felt familiar.

Have you ever noticed how homes have their own sounds?  We get used the the familiar sounds of the ice maker, the pump cutting in, the furnace or a/c running.  When it is nighttime and the house moves and creaks, you know there is a raging snowstorm or rainstorm, given the season, taking place outside. Familiarity. Everything sounds different in this new house. We have the "ice maker from hell" when it comes to noises. The dishwasher is very old and noisy. Even the furnace makes louder sounds than either of us were used to. 

I love the view out my office windows.  Being here since March, it now seems familiar to me.  I sit here most of the day, unless we leave the house. But, although this is home now, when I look out the other windows of the house, the views still seem strange to me, as I seldom see out those windows. No familiarity except for my office view.

Sadly, the view out my office windows has barely changed.  My two huge Bradford Pear trees are still green, as is the grass, and as are half the trees across the road.  There are finally a couple orange and yellow ones, and one red one, but the most are still as green as summer! Hard to think that tomorrow is November 1st.

I have come to realize that while change is good and we eventually adapt, there are some things that are comforting, such as eating off dishes I have had for decades.  If I just focus on the food on my plate and my desk with its familiar items on it, and do not glance up and look out the window, it is almost as if I am back in Wisconsin and when I do look up, I will see the view across Oak Ridge Road, not Spider Barnes Road. I know I won't though, so I keep my eyes down, on the familiar, and try not to think of "What is not right with this picture?"

And so today, with the heavy, driving rains in the 30+ mph winds, if I just quickly glance up, I cannot see clearly and it is almost like it is Oak Ridge Road.  Suddenly I realize that part of the feeling of hiraeth I feel, are the sounds.  In this raging wind and rainstorm we are having, the rain slashing at the windows, the wind torquing the house—the sound and fury of the elements make this house sound just like my house in Rapids—just like home.  

And after all, it is home, is it not?

© Rhonda Whetstone/October 31, 2019
    Jonesborough, TN

Hiraeth: a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.