MONDAY, MAY 6
When we reach this point in our house/pet sits we get emotional. We argue and disagree. There are often tears, raised voices, tantrums. We call it hormones, and maybe it is. But more likely, or in combination, it is about leaving and transitioning. So much needs to be done…thorough cleaning, clearing out the refrigerator, taking out the garbage, laundry, making beds with clean sheets, sorting luggage, more shipping, printing tickets, etc. There is some sadness, too, about leaving the pet and place we have come to know (Duffy is hard to leave). Also we leave behind desires, walks we wished to take, and neighborhoods we wanted to explore.
Living in someone else’s home and replicating their routines, requires adjustments, learning how to use the kitchen, where things are kept in the house, how to find what we need in the neighborhood. We settle in, feel more comfortable using the blankets on the couches to keep warm, deciding to boost the heat, no longer swearing about the child locks on the cabinets, daring to washing our clothes, watching movies in the evening, easing into life with Duffy. Strangely, though, a sort of seizure sets in when we begin this process of relaxation. Questions surface. What are we doing here, on this journey? Why are we living someone else’s life? Where have our lives gone? What are our lives anyway? We can tell ourselves that we are doing this to buy more travel time, but is that totally true? Then like the dog unexpectedly jumping on the bed in the morning and waking us up, it’s time to prepare to leave.
Transition. We live them, every week, every month of this year.
This is our last house/pet sit until we return to Saffi and West Cork, Ireland. Soon we will be crossing borders at a rapid pace. We will be taking long bus rides through countries where it is less safe than the countries we have visited thus far, where it will feel less familiar, more foreign. In some sense, our travels are just beginning. We have glided through the major European cities, enjoyed their luxuries and richness, their foods and culture and art.
More often now, we think of home. I worry about what work I will do when we return. I worry.
Chloe talked to her friends the other day and it stirred up all sorts of feelings for her, about returning, about starting college, about independence and going to parties, about missing a year with her friends, about how these travels make her experiences so different from that of her friend’s during last year. Her year on the road will be hard to share with people who don’t have a similar experience.
We talk about bold moves, about who we are in relation to each other. I have an unquenchable thirst for more and more. I can’t seem to settle down. Chloe says she may be more content with simpler living. In many ways, we feel difference from other people, as doubters…of our world, but more importantly of ourselves, and how that seems to set us apart. We are the shy ones, the ones who listen more than talk.
I told a friend how Chloe and I rarely talk when we go out to eat, and so being in an English speaking country makes a big difference to us. We can understand what people are saying. “You eavesdrop?” they asked a bit surprised.
“Doesn’t everyone do it? How can you help but?” Our listening is in no way malicious. We are just insanely curious about who people are and how they think. We love to imagine peoples’ lives and relationships, to paint pictures around the words they share in conversation.
It is after all a year of living our lives in other people’s lives, not just the house/pet sitting, but in looking around us, seeing and listening. Just like children, we are gathering as much information as our brains can hold, and mixing it around in our minds.
Mike, the computer repair man, said “In Scotland, we say wait 20 minutes and the weather will change.” For us, because we are traveling, we just need to wait a day and everything will change…
