On and on and on

I’ll make this pretty short. I’m going to try to hit this place again later with a book post – I’ve read a lot the past couple of weeks, and it’s time to share the good and the bad.

My mind is occupied this week with two projects and honing in on a house on which I made an offer, which was then accepted. Today was the inspection. I went along, and I’m glad I did, otherwise I might have been wandering around the place for weeks after I moved in wondering just where the heck the HVAC unit was, anyway.

(It’s in the attic)

Aren’t you thrilled! People say. Isn’t it exciting! A house!

Meh.

It’s good. It will be a relief to get out of the apartment.  I really like this possible new house, too.

But thrilled and excited do not feel relevant to the experience.  This isn’t the way it was supposed to be. Sure, this house may be pretty much my ideal house (almost), but I am still thinking that the days of being willing to take less than the my personal ideal,  of  bickering and compromising over a house both of us could be satisfied with were better days.

And there is the matter of being thrilled and excited in general. I wrote about this a bit in relationship to this summer’s travels.  6.5 months in, those emotions are not part of my vocabulary again yet.  I even feel guilty contemplating a time in which they might return. It doesn’t seem right.

(I am not saying this is right. Just being honest.  Faith and loss fight a battle every day. Faith is winning. Slowly. A note on these issues from a non-faith perspective, though – a friend posted this on Facebook. It is one of the best things I’ve read on what this feels like right now on the loss front.)

As I said, today was the home inspection.  Two things occurred to me.

First, there is a large rosemary bush in front. Flourishing.   Huge rosemary bushes grew outside the door of our agriturismo in Sicily. Enormous. Bountiful. I love rosemary anyway, and the sight of them coming and going, and the flagrance I could simply snap off and carry off soothed me.

Rosemary.

Secondly, this. The house has a built-in sound system attached to a radio in the kitchen wall. Lots of these old houses have them (some with intercoms), and I naturally assumed that this one, like most of the others I’ve seen, has left its working days long behind it.  I flicked it on and music surrounded me. Clearly. Alive. Sharp.

Strangers, waiting, up and down the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlight people, living just to find emotion
Hiding somewhere in the night

Working hard to get my fill
Everybody wants a thrill
Paying anything to roll the dice
Just one more time
Some will win, some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on

Don’t stop believing…

Michael loved The Sopranos. When this song – the song playing during that final scene that lead to a sudden, inexplicable blackout, the reason for which was never explained, the consequences of which were a mystery,  a scene we discussed a thousand times in a show we discussed a million times and basically defined our Sunday nights during our entire marriage – when it surged through the rooms of the house, our possible new home, as stupid as it may be, I felt a blessing. A crazy, bittersweet blessing. From somewhere.

But the Lord is waiting to be gracious to you,

to rise and take pity on you,

for the Lord is a just God;

happy are all who hope in him

(Ps. 54. Office of Readings today)

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