It has been a hilarious week. Well, I’m trying to remember it as hilarious in retrospect.
Last Tuesday, early in the morning, I turned in the full first draft of our cookbook.
Thursday morning, in the middle of a monsoon of a rain, blowing sideways in the wind, we started our move. The two young men we hired to help us didn’t show up for nearly 2 hours and weren’t answering their phones. So Danny and I lugged and heaved and hoisted the couch, the dressers, the tables, the big wooden desks, onto our shoulders and into the truck ourselves.
We didn’t get everything moved, even when the movers did show up with sheepish apologies and gave us a couple of hours of work. So we returned to our old home the next day to pack up the last of the kitchen and clean and clean and clean. We finally closed the door at 10:30 pm.
I swear, the next morning, Danny and I both felt like 80-year-olds who had been in fist fights. Lu called out from her new room in the middle of the night. When my feet hit the floor to go to her, my calves seized up and I couldn’t walk for a moment.
And of course, we still have all this unpacking to do. The dining room table is covered in cookbooks we plan to put into alphabetical order and place on the shelves. I couldn’t find the basket where we packed all our shoes for five days, so I have been wearing knee-high muck boots, covered in mud, everywhere I have gone. Everything feels just a tiny bit daunting at the moment.
But we’re home.
In the midst of all this, Danny and I both kept laughing and talking. “Team Ahern,” we’d say in the worst of the rain storm, hook our pinky fingers together and lift up another heavy box.
Lucy was a rock star. She was at preschool or with friends during most of the upheaval, but she was with us that evening we cleaned and cleaned. Instead of complaining, she bounced on her big mattress, the last piece of furniture in the house, pretending to swim. Or she read Curious George books and told us all about what was happening as we mopped.
The light in this house? Oh, the light.
And we now have enough space, and a fresh start, to make room for another baby in our family. Soon, we hope. Soon.
The other night, we sat down to dinner at our new coffee table. It was about 6 when the three of us sat together. In the old house, I rarely found a patch of light strong enough to take photographs of the food. Most of the photographs on this website the past three years I shot on the porch. But at this little simple dinner red lentils with cumin and curry powder, sweet brown rice, Italian sausages, and some kale from the farmstand I first felt grateful that we have a well-stocked pantry. Even if some of the jars are still on the porch.
Then I felt grateful for this bowl, which I bought in New York City the last year I lived there. I’ve carried it to every new home.
And then I looked down and saw this light, streaming through the dining room window. I didn’t have to do anything to find it.
I think we’re going to be quite happy here.