You may have noticed that the blog has been dormant for a couple of weeks, that is because a lot of change is transpiring. I haven’t lived an ordinary life and I really don’t see normalcy happening in the future. Imagine life handing you a bag of lemons… after tossing them through a metal fan… you know the kind with large, terrifying blades that will dice up just about anything? That’s been my life for the last couple of weeks. There have been tears, exploding glass brownie pans, kitchen burns and some questionable carpentry because two weeks ago, my 16 year old brother moved in with me.
I’m 28, and before last Saturday, I rarely made my bed, once ate coconut ice cream for dinner, breakfast and lunch (in that order), and had no qualms about polishing off a bottle of wine in bed while watching Bachelor in Paradise. Sure, I left dishes in the sink at night and danced around my living room in my underwear, but that’s what you do when you’re in your mid to late 20’s and live alone.
Then everything changed. On the day I picked Dominic up, the nervous energy in the car was palpable. This was a new beginning for both of us. Our lives were colliding and there was no turning back. The primary language in my apartment has gone from spoken English to American Sign Language (ASL). I’ve started making dinner every night (which has been a disaster). I now make my bed most days of the week, my grocery bill has doubled, and I’ve never filled out more paperwork in my life. It’s seriously worse than applying for college.
Our apartment is one of those old chopped up building sorts. There are way too many doors in every room and a lot of quirky odds and ends. One of the bathroom doors leads directly into Dominic’s room. This weekend, I was brushing my teeth, when I looked over my shoulder and saw him sitting on his bed. We had just finished putting together his new desk,and were going to buy shelving for his root beer can collection and trophies in the morning. One of the first things he did when he moved in was draw a diagram of how he wanted everything to be organized. He sat on his bed nodding his head as if checking off imaginary boxes and his smile grew larger and larger, spreading into an abundant grin. “I saw that,” I signed, tearing up into my toothpaste. A little embarrassed, he looked at me with pink cheeks, still smiling.
Those are the moments that make life’s journey worth it. We both know what it’s like to move from one place to another never feeling completely safe or watched over. This is not an easy road for either of us but I know in the end it will all be worth it.