I haven't felt like blogging lately. I tend to be happy in real life, but get pretty mushy in my writing. I think the click of keys makes it easier to say what I feel, much better than the sound of my own voice. I couldn't even talk about leaving Oxford Road, the wound was just too fresh. But it's been a month and Texas is becoming my new normal so here goes.
I miss you. I miss the slopping hills in my neighborhood, so many trees every where that radio reception is blocked. I miss being able to get in the car and drive any where with out thought or punching in an address to the GPS. I miss your houses, and seeing what little changes you make, what paint sample is now on the wall, where did you hang the new picture of the kids? I miss those of you I didn't even know that well, but I enjoyed seeing you every day and you helped make my life familiar. More than all of that, I miss your children. Not just for the selfish reason that they make my children happy ans keep them entertained. But I miss them for the curl in their beautiful hair, the way summer tan looks on handsome boys, the sound of the basket ball, seeing who has lost a new tooth, and how a new dress looks while twirling. This is the part I never expected. I've missed my friends and their kids before, but our children were younger and hadn't yet come in to their own and been so full of personality. Now it's different.
As for Texas, it's hot. I mean really hot. I've lived in Arizona, so I know a dry heat of one hundred fifteen plus, I'm from Louisiana and know muggy heat, but this coastal heat is a whole new ball game! This town is flat with out much personality, but I'm hoping it will grow on me. The kids and I have found new routines, they have even made some new friends down the street. We are slowly learning our way around. I say we because Turner knows where more things are than I do and helps more than I should admit.
What I have found that I like is my children. I always liked spending time with them but we all had our own friends and were so busy in Macon that we didn't spend very much time just me and them. A month here knowing no one leaves plenty of quality time to be spent. We have done tons of crafts and exploring. Tate has given up naps so I have two more hours a day with her than ever before. Turner and Tate have taken all this in stride, they are truly amazing people. We talk openly when any of us are having a bad day. Turner understands deeply what missing a best friend feels like and we talk about it a lot. He's so mature, so grown, and such a little boy all at the same time. We will have had a great day full of new things, then he will come crawl in my lap and thank me for taking them to play racket ball or what ever we have done. But he will add in, "I really had fun, but I do miss going and talking to Will about everything". Then my heart breaks a little. Even though he misses his best friend he is reaching out and making friends every where we go. He just goes up and introduces himself and asks to play. Tate is handling all this with more insecurity. My outgoing loud little ball of fire has become quiet. She is a little unsure of herself and is having a harder time going up to new kids at the gym or rec center. Turner has told her to just do what he does: Look for someone playing something you like and just go make a friend. I hope she gets the hang of it like he has.
The best thing about Lake Jackson, Texas is the proximity to the beach. We have gone every day that Brad has had off from work and I can't get enough. They aren't the white sand and crystal blue water of tropical islands, but they are waves and salt water and that is apparently all we need. Happiness is in weird places, for me it's thirty yards out, floating on a boogie board beside my son waiting for the next perfect wave. Happiness is sitting digging up sea shells and clams with Tate. Happiness is sitting by my Sweetness watching our kids manifest true joy while dancing in the surf. So I get through the week, try to keep myself and the kids very busy, so busy no one feels the sadness down in our hearts. Then Saturday comes and we pack an ice chest and set out to the beach. We all laugh and talk. Every one plays and it is an easy bliss. Sunday we get up and hit the eight thirty service at our new church, and are back on the beach before noon. It's something about the salt water. The waves washing you toward shore, the taste of your lips, the soft fine sand underfoot. It's all a very powerful prescription for a broken heart.
