Masthead header

The Little House

633 league kitchen

I had been looking for a place to live, to start my life over (once again) and as soon as I walked into the little house I started to cry. I hoped the people showing it to me wouldn’t notice. I did my best to hide my tears, I bent my head, and went out into the small garden. It was beautiful and lush, there were tomato plants laden with fruit, and flowers.

The kitchen was spacious and I’d be able to cook there and have friends over. Did I still have any friends? I was leaving my life, I was doing a terrible thing, I was breaking a commitment, leaving my daughter, and my home. Didn’t I deserve to be punished? I was trying hard to find a place that wouldn’t make me feel like that. That’s why I started to cry when I walked into this house. It wasn’t my home yet, but it could be.

I was profoundly lost and ashamed. I had ruined another relationship, I wasn’t going to be able to see my daughter every day, and it was my own fault. I couldn’t make the relationship work, I didn’t try hard enough, I had given up. I cried with relief and gratitude. I had been delivered. I was getting another chance. I had escaped from the misery I was living in. I needed to show my daughter what it looked like to stand up for yourself, to take action, I was proud and optimistic. In that little house, I was at once both lost and found.

I moved in August first. I had been packing for weeks, though I didn’t take much. I took my books, my clothes, the pots and pans, and some framed pictures. There were a few pieces of furniture too, but not much. At the age of fifty, I found myself at Target buying things like scissors and a can opener. I needed silverware, sheets, and towels, beds, a couch, it was like when I got my first apartment, only this time my mom wasn’t paying for everything, this time I was the mom.

633 league LR

We settled into the house, and it was small, but perfect for us. It turned out I did have a few remaining friends, and that was enough. I knew I had done the right thing for myself and my daughter. Though I wouldn’t be there for her every day, I knew that for half the time her life would be peaceful and there would be no yelling. She would no longer have to witness my fear and weakness. There were times she cried and said she wished we could all be together again, and each time I’d say as gently as I could, that would never happen.

We lived there for three years. In that time I taught my daughter to bake a pie, to make fresh fettuccine, and to make herself an egg for breakfast. I taught myself to breathe again, to sing, to dance and I found my way back to myself. Just the other day she reminded me of that time, saying “Remember when you first left and you told me when I got older I’d understand why you had to leave? Now I do.” I was struck by her understanding. Though it seems like so long ago, it all came flooding back.  Suddenly I was back in that little house, awash in feeling both relief and terrific sadness.

 

 


Facebook Share|Tweet Post|Pin Post|+1 Post
  • December 2, 2014 - 7:54 am

    Walker Thornton - Yes, facing our fears. Daring to let something go to create a better something. I totally get it!ReplyCancel

    • December 2, 2014 - 8:08 am

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Yes, sometimes we don’t realize we’re brave until long afterwards, when at the time we just feel terrified.ReplyCancel

  • December 2, 2014 - 11:05 am

    Brandi - Beautifully written and so very powerful!ReplyCancel

    • December 2, 2014 - 11:14 am

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Thank you Brandi.ReplyCancel

  • December 2, 2014 - 12:28 pm

    Kristin - I love the contrast between what you taught your daughter and what you taught yourself. They are more alike than they seem.ReplyCancel

  • December 5, 2014 - 10:36 am
  • December 23, 2014 - 7:34 am

    Room in My Kitchen » Chefs Last Diet - […] as it is, sometimes I feel like there’s no more room in there. When we moved from our little house into the house we’re in now my daughter spun around in glee and counted all the drawers and […]ReplyCancel

  • June 8, 2015 - 6:40 am

    Block Party » Chefs Last Diet - […] I’ve been back a few times to visit this was the first block party I was going to since my unhappy departure. I was excited about seeing old friends  and looking forward to what was sure to be some great […]ReplyCancel

  • April 6, 2016 - 5:48 am

    100 Wednesdays » Chefs Last Diet - […] especially children. My concern about how it would impact her almost kept me from making one of the best decisions I’ve ever struggled to make. I couldn’t imagine not seeing her every day, not reading her […]ReplyCancel

  • July 11, 2016 - 6:20 am

Your email is never published or shared. Required fields are marked *

*

*

CommentLuv badge

T w i t t e r