Hitting the Ground Running

Tomorrow I have an interview with a nanny job and the walk through of the house sitting gig I will start on Sunday.  I also have a date with lady Beth for Philz, bike rides, KooKoo Factory madness and general girl friend catch up time.

The interview is more like a hey, good to see you let’s figure out the details.  I know the family, friends of friends and I camped with them last year at Burning Man.

They heard I was coming back and asked me to work for them.

I said yes.

I am going to keep saying yes.

I was asked by another family in the Burning Man organization to nanny for them as well.

Both sets of parents want part-time with a little overlap.

If it susses out well I may find myself working four days a week with four families.  Monday-Thursday.  I would overlap families on Tuesdays with the possibility of having a day where I work with three kids.

I can hang with that.

A three-day weekend.

Space for my writing.

The perfect balance.

Work enough to pay the bills and take care of myself.

Not work too much that I can still attend to my writing goals.

I do not have to figure it all out tonight either, it seems to be falling into place quite easily and with a natural kind of grace, falling down the hill following the break line.

Same goes with staying in Oakland.

I am going to stay at Graceland.

It just feels right.

The wood floors speak to the soles of my feet, the sunshine through the windows, the kittens sprawled out on the floor–and sometimes on the table–calling my attention, I feel good here.

Funny that.

Going all the way to Paris to come back to Graceland.

But as I went through my morning it felt more and more natural and easy to be here.

I had a quiet day, getting into myself, my skin, the being here.

I took the bike out of the bike box and assembled it.

I did it so much faster than when I was in Paris.

Partially as I was going to need to use it right away, partially as it was gorgeous weather all day today and not riding my bike would have been a sort of crime, partially because having had the experience of putting it together and tearing it apart I knew how to do it.

In less than 45 minutes I had reassembled my bicycle.

Twice stopping to wash my hands and drink a cup of coffee.

I laid out my tools and had her up and going and out the door an hour after I had split open the box to pull out the packaging.

Then it was simply following directions to the grocery store.

Which was no longer a Lucky’s but now a Food Maxx.

Holy shit was it a food max.

You could have put all the stores in my arrondissement in Paris in the thing and had space for a few cafes and tabacs as well.

I got my groceries, came back to the house, made breakfast, wrote, meditated.

I could get used to this.

I got a phone call from my mom and we had a really nice check in for 45 minutes.

45!

It was easy too, relaxed, lovely, actually.

And I could envision a time when she would come here for a visit, the thought did not repulse me or freak me out.  It’s just mom and she loves me and I her.

Imagine that.

I also had a talk with my sister who is now living in the same city as my mom.

It has been a few years since we had a conversation as long as the one we did.

Or as revealing.

My sister has had some serious struggles in her life and I chose a long time ago to not have much interaction, it wasn’t healthy for me and I had to get some distance.  The same sort of distance I took with my mom and still have with my father.

I haven’t seen my father in over 9 years.

My sister in over 7 years.

This past year was the first time seeing mom in about 5 years.

I can imagine seeing my little sister again, although it may be a little more time yet before that happens.  But to have a dialogue withe her and a new way of conversing with a language that I have been practising for over eight years now, was special.

I heard new things in her that I have always wanted to hear and I believe that a relationship may actually be something I can have with her.

Slowly though.

I had to get off the phone, however, at one point, it was a lot to take in and a lot of information was beginning to be divulged that I don’t need to know.

Sometimes you just don’t need to know.

I love her and that will suffice as a start.

A new beginning.

I feel the doors opening to me here.

The warmth of the weather, the blue of the skies, which are the skies of my childhood and therefore will always feel like home, a home-coming, a coming to, of sorts.

I want to stay put.

I want to put down some roots.

It was hard leaving France, but it was easy coming here.

As I sat on the front porch talking to my mom on the phone drinking a cup of tea, I watched a hummingbird flit through the Agapanthus flowers in the yard and felt the warm sun on my bare legs and feet.

I could get used to this.

Tomorrow I will be throwing myself out into the world and it will be a little shock to my system, I am certain, to go to San Francisco, but I know where my home is and I know I will be welcomed with open arms back to Graceland.

Oakland, hella glad to be here.

Tags: burning man, mom, moving, Nanny, Oakland, postaday