'Tis the Gift to be Simple (2 years in Houston anniversary post)
I entered the front door to hear my niece crying somewhere in the back of the house. It was the tired, sad type of crying typical of three year olds who refuse to take naps, so I didn't rush as I looked around for her. I thought at first she was in my sister's bedroom, but the cry sounded closer, and slightly muffled. Lillian was crying from inside the living room ottoman.
At the same time, my sister Erica, opened the front door for the bug man. We had recently moved into a new house, and with the discovery of a dinosaur sized cockroach in the pantry, called the exterminators immediately. While the bug man sprayed along the edges of the walls, I sat on the long, rectangular ottoman. It was covered in cushioned brown leather with the top split in two to access storage inside. My niece had recently taken to hanging out in there, sometimes with her ipad to watch shows. My sister made sure she propped the lid with a book, but in Lillian's state of mind, she kept pushing it off defiantly. I tried propping the lid again, gesticulating dramatically to explain that it will be hard to breathe if she keeps it closed. Lillian did not care. She continued to cry and refused to be consoled, so I walked a few feet away to say to the bug man, "If you hear crying coming from inside our furniture, it is just my niece."
As the man sprayed around the kitchen, I told him that we were thankful he could come so quickly. Since my brother-in-law is diligent about getting his house sprayed every year, I hadn't experienced a true Texas sized cockroach until the one I had seen in the new house that week in the pantry. He laughed and said, "Welcome to Texas! Where everything is bigger..." and I finished with, "Even the things you wish weren't bigger." The exterminator explained that the enormous, four inch long cockroaches were not the ones to worry about (oh really!?) as they enter accidentally through the pipes. "The pipe system is like a cockroach highway."
"Oh... great..." I said aloud, as I imagined streams of cockroaches the size of my hand moving freely along the city pipes.
He said the small cockroaches were the ones to worry about since they take up residence in your house and proliferate quickly.
Now that we were ignoring her, my niece emerged from her cave and draped herself dramatically over the top, still half inside the furniture and still simpering. At least she had lots of air now. As she quieted, Lillian kept looking miserably in my direction, and saying something in such a soft voice, I couldn't hear.
I walked over to bend down by her face and asked with a smile, "What are you saying?"
Faintly, she whispered, "Want to paint!"
I almost laughed at this unexpected change of heart, but caught myself. Instead, I gave a look of exaggerated surprise and said, "What a wonderful idea! Let's go upstairs and paint!"
Suddenly filled with life, like clouds parting after a storm, she ran happily upstairs to my room. It was good timing as my sister needed to leave to pick up her two sons from school. While she was gone, Lillian and I painted for an hour, intermittently pausing to race each other up and down the stairs when the exterminator needed help with something.
In the midst of the whole afternoon, I felt a sense of peace. The morning had started with waking fully rested and my mom picked me up for lunch. We first visited with Erica and Lillian at the hair salon briefly to see how cute my niece was sitting with an adult sized salon robe wrapped around her shoulders. It made her head look tiny and she looked so relaxed, it was even more adorable. Even though I had just seen her at home, it was fun to visit with my sister in a hair salon while we chortled with glee over my niece. Then mom and I went to lunch, and over dismantled chicken pot pie, discussed the nature of creativity. We stopped at the store to grab some groceries for my sister, and then arrived home to find Lillian in the ottoman. Nothing spectacular happened, but I was aware that I was simply, happy.
I have had innumerable happy moments like that since moving to live in Houston with my sister and her family. It is not even just moments. For the first time in a dozen years, or maybe my entire life, I feel my existence stretching out like a happy cat lazing in the sun. The change is not only the new location, but also the connection with my sister, brother in law, Charlie, two nephews and nice that I interact with daily. It is living in the same state as my older brother Michael, the first forerunner of our family to this strange, Texas land. Last year, I had Thanksgiving with both of my older siblings, my younger brother and my parents. My best friend of 21 years from our life back in Missouri, is only 2.5 hours away in Austin. My parents moved to Houston a couple months ago and I am enjoying their visits and watching them relax as well.
The jobs I have had in this city, along with living with my sister which removed a lot of the extreme financial pressure I was under, have allowed me to enjoy work again. Working at Cartier and then Texas Art Supply has given me a renewed confidence in work and the many positive work environments that exist. I am starting to plan, to dream, to work towards goals and feel hopeful about my future. I relish this newfound peaceful mode of living, and even though I am surprised by the turn of events: living in Texas of all places, with my sister, I am thankful I pushed through a lot of darkness to make it to 33 years old and see that life can be, in fact, bright and calm. It is a simple life by all appearances, but the change for me has been as drastic as it must have been for my niece to be one moment, crying sadly from within the dark ottoman to the sheer, simple joy of painting with her aunt who loves her.
At the same time, my sister Erica, opened the front door for the bug man. We had recently moved into a new house, and with the discovery of a dinosaur sized cockroach in the pantry, called the exterminators immediately. While the bug man sprayed along the edges of the walls, I sat on the long, rectangular ottoman. It was covered in cushioned brown leather with the top split in two to access storage inside. My niece had recently taken to hanging out in there, sometimes with her ipad to watch shows. My sister made sure she propped the lid with a book, but in Lillian's state of mind, she kept pushing it off defiantly. I tried propping the lid again, gesticulating dramatically to explain that it will be hard to breathe if she keeps it closed. Lillian did not care. She continued to cry and refused to be consoled, so I walked a few feet away to say to the bug man, "If you hear crying coming from inside our furniture, it is just my niece."
As the man sprayed around the kitchen, I told him that we were thankful he could come so quickly. Since my brother-in-law is diligent about getting his house sprayed every year, I hadn't experienced a true Texas sized cockroach until the one I had seen in the new house that week in the pantry. He laughed and said, "Welcome to Texas! Where everything is bigger..." and I finished with, "Even the things you wish weren't bigger." The exterminator explained that the enormous, four inch long cockroaches were not the ones to worry about (oh really!?) as they enter accidentally through the pipes. "The pipe system is like a cockroach highway."
"Oh... great..." I said aloud, as I imagined streams of cockroaches the size of my hand moving freely along the city pipes.
He said the small cockroaches were the ones to worry about since they take up residence in your house and proliferate quickly.
Now that we were ignoring her, my niece emerged from her cave and draped herself dramatically over the top, still half inside the furniture and still simpering. At least she had lots of air now. As she quieted, Lillian kept looking miserably in my direction, and saying something in such a soft voice, I couldn't hear.
I walked over to bend down by her face and asked with a smile, "What are you saying?"
Faintly, she whispered, "Want to paint!"
I almost laughed at this unexpected change of heart, but caught myself. Instead, I gave a look of exaggerated surprise and said, "What a wonderful idea! Let's go upstairs and paint!"
Suddenly filled with life, like clouds parting after a storm, she ran happily upstairs to my room. It was good timing as my sister needed to leave to pick up her two sons from school. While she was gone, Lillian and I painted for an hour, intermittently pausing to race each other up and down the stairs when the exterminator needed help with something.
In the midst of the whole afternoon, I felt a sense of peace. The morning had started with waking fully rested and my mom picked me up for lunch. We first visited with Erica and Lillian at the hair salon briefly to see how cute my niece was sitting with an adult sized salon robe wrapped around her shoulders. It made her head look tiny and she looked so relaxed, it was even more adorable. Even though I had just seen her at home, it was fun to visit with my sister in a hair salon while we chortled with glee over my niece. Then mom and I went to lunch, and over dismantled chicken pot pie, discussed the nature of creativity. We stopped at the store to grab some groceries for my sister, and then arrived home to find Lillian in the ottoman. Nothing spectacular happened, but I was aware that I was simply, happy.
I have had innumerable happy moments like that since moving to live in Houston with my sister and her family. It is not even just moments. For the first time in a dozen years, or maybe my entire life, I feel my existence stretching out like a happy cat lazing in the sun. The change is not only the new location, but also the connection with my sister, brother in law, Charlie, two nephews and nice that I interact with daily. It is living in the same state as my older brother Michael, the first forerunner of our family to this strange, Texas land. Last year, I had Thanksgiving with both of my older siblings, my younger brother and my parents. My best friend of 21 years from our life back in Missouri, is only 2.5 hours away in Austin. My parents moved to Houston a couple months ago and I am enjoying their visits and watching them relax as well.
The jobs I have had in this city, along with living with my sister which removed a lot of the extreme financial pressure I was under, have allowed me to enjoy work again. Working at Cartier and then Texas Art Supply has given me a renewed confidence in work and the many positive work environments that exist. I am starting to plan, to dream, to work towards goals and feel hopeful about my future. I relish this newfound peaceful mode of living, and even though I am surprised by the turn of events: living in Texas of all places, with my sister, I am thankful I pushed through a lot of darkness to make it to 33 years old and see that life can be, in fact, bright and calm. It is a simple life by all appearances, but the change for me has been as drastic as it must have been for my niece to be one moment, crying sadly from within the dark ottoman to the sheer, simple joy of painting with her aunt who loves her.
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