Well well well. Greetings once again to the blogosphere.
It has been a strange and wonderful several months. Finally graduated from what feels like ages upon ages of collegiate excursion and experience, and having ventured several months worth of teetering steps into my “adult” life, I feel both satisfied with my progress and simultaneously as confused as I’ve ever been. Here’s what I want to know… How do people do this adult life thing successfully? You know, feeding yourself nutritiously balanced meals, paying rent, managing the terrifying realm of finances, pursuit of a satisfying and fulfilling career, etc etc. It’s a lot. It really is. Sure, there are many days of successfully productive forward momentum (those days I am always mindful to congratulate myself with a pat on the back and a positive forward-thinking pep-talk. You know the kind, “See Laura? That wasn’t so hard now was it? What a productive day! Now let’s just do that again tomorrow and the next day and the….” Of course by that time the other part of me is whining for a glass of water or another blanket on the bed. But… we can’t always be as mature as we’d like, now can we?
I spent the first two and a half months of my post-college summer living with my brother, sister-in-law, and another couple that they had just moved into the most wonderful home with in Orange, CA. With a pool, hot-tub, wonderful patio, my own room, and two dogs that constantly sought after and fought for my affections, it quickly became the perfect space and environment for me to regroup, and plan my next step. Freelance work came out of nowhere, consistently, and always just in time. Copper, a hulking and handsome Australian Cattle Herder quickly became my best friend, companion, and summer-time “boyfriend” in light of the Alaskan commercial-fishing absence of my real boyfriend. He was faithful, always by my side, and found me wherever I was each night when he thought it ought to be time for bed. “Okay, okay,” I’d say, “Bedtime?” and he’d wag his tail, head straight for my room, and sit in the door way while I pulled out the sleeper sofa and made the bed. Finally, I’d pull back the covers on his side of the bed, look at him, and say, “Okay buddy! Come on up!” and he’d hop up with as much joy and exuberance as I imagine a dog can have. What. A. Pal.
And of course when it came time to pack up and move out, ours was the hardest goodbye. He’d known all week, sniffing my boxes suspiciously, coming over and licking my leg or arm he’d cock his head and let out a soft whine, “Laura, what’s this all about? You’re leaving? Just like that? What did I do? I’m sorry! When all that pasta fell on the floor I just… wanted to help! I swear I’ll never do it again!” And I’d hug him and kiss his face and tell him I loved him. But a week later while I packed up my car he laid forlornly by the door picking up his head for a moment when I came back in, and setting it down again with a sigh as I grabbed more boxes and bags. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a little choked up when I finally left. I told him that I’d just be in Long Beach and that I’d be back to see him often. But I don’t think he understood.
Now, finally settled into a beautiful craftsman-style, California bungalow on a street called Bermuda with 4 of my friends and a precocious and aggressively-pubescent kitten named Oliver, I’m looking-forward (though not without apprehension) to a new season of life and learning. Remembering and learning of course, always and on-goingly courage, discipline, graciousness, contentment and joy.
I’m looking forward also to the coming Autumn, Curtis’ return from the north country, and forging ahead with fortitude headlong into this adult-life-thing. (I NEED A JOB!)
