I was rinsing off the dishes last night, listening to Canada’s Only Jazz FM station when it dawned on me: I’m home
I think,silly as it is - the thing that dawned on me is that finally after 5 months or so of living here,** I know where everything is, and I mean everything. **I know where the strainer goes, where the extra batteries are, and how to wash the dog even (my least favorite chore - Wet and Dog and Jim should not be in the same sentence) and all this takes time. The garden we made was our garden, not just B’s garden. )
For a long time I’ve felt like a fish out of water when it comes to the everyday. I’m from another country and what’s norm for B is not for me and although the changes are small, they can be big. I got a bank card today in the mail and I had to ask B a question because it’s different than what I’m used to in Canada. Sure, the Tim Horton’s cup sizes grew in the USA but the little things really took time for me to adjust. When I moved here it felt like all I did was ask questions
But now that we’re creating a life together day by day it feels more like home. I have a barber, an accountant, a mechanic, a bank account.. a card that says I can work here and I realized that this will be the best summer ever as I was rinsing dishes and the birds were chirping. I know how to cut the lawn, what type of gas the car takes (regular) where the so-so grocery store is and where the better grocery store too.
It took me a bit to get used to the foreign currency, but I figured out a system for that.
I know how to get around without the need of a GPS. I can make it to the drug store and back and not get lost anymore.
It all takes time I guess, but now I am home.
A Mailbox Story
See the mailbox above? see how it’s a nice tan color (in need of a repaint - it’s on the list). Well, it wasn’t always that way. Until yestarday it featured a most horrific floral pattern known to mankind. Think of the worst wallpaper border you could find then apply it to a mailbox. B moved here 5 years ago and I showed up 5 months ago and during all that time neither of us took any time to pay attention to a mailbox because, well, it’s just a mailbox.
But, we were both outside getting ready for our evening run and I realized that the mailbox pattern might be wallpaper or something and not painted on. It turns out the floral pattern was held down with magnets, and a quick lift and our mailbox doesn’t look half as bad. I’m amazed actually that the mailbox magnet pattern survived all the Buffalo weather over the years, but I’m just happy that the floral pattern is gone. I felt like a scene from the Golden Girls every time I checked my mail. This is much better.
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