We’ve left the lowlands.


Last week, we piled up a rented minivan literally to the ceiling and drove pretty much due east, ‘til we reached our new home… full of promise, and difficulties: internet access being one. And a host of new challenges.


Little K slept most of the time – three-month-olds can be perfect traveling partners. Aside from the ride home from the hospital, it was the first time she’d been in a car, and she took to it pretty well.


We’re making a semi-new start in a city we’d already lived in. I’ve got a short-term gig here that is half time at best, with no office and no commute… nearly perfect for the wishful stay-at-home dad that I’ve become. Melka has projects that may develop into full-blown work… we’re taking a year to see how this goes.


And a year to heal, I guess. Here’s a metaphor from the world of baking: one thing I’ve yet to master is folding ingredients in. You take the bowl, add the new ingredient to the batter, and then cut down from top to bottom with a rubber spatula. Then, scoop, lift and fold the new ingredient into the dough. I think the point is to incorporate things so they bake properly, or set up layers of proteins or something I don’t really understand. But it’s a specific technique that is more elegant than merely stirring.


Now, I’ve got these things floating on the top and I need to incorporate them.


I want to be less angry. I want to laugh when the spoon falls from my hand and on to the floor. I want the times when I get snippy with my wife to be fewer and fewer, I want to feel less impotent rage at strangers, I want to calm the eff down. I want to crank down my general hatred of everything.


I want to be less needy. Our life in the lowlands became one favor from kind people after another. And we needed it… but I’m getting tired of charity. I don’t want this feeling of entitlement that I’ve developed, that somehow losing Malina has opened a whole world of responsibilities that I can just ignore. And the people around us, dear friends and people we could lean on when we needed… well, I feel like we were always leaning on them. So it was time to leave.


Scraping the plate between courses.