Umiko

Years ago, I hit a point of revelation that sitting around and watching TV was mostly wasteful and numbing and I'd done enough of it. That being said, I really like watching the hoarding shows that have become popular recently. Long ago I knew a very old woman who hoarded very expensive museum-quality antiques. Every surface in her unkept house was covered with stuff. My Dad and I met her while visiting my Great Aunt at the lake and later, when I moved in with my father, she became our landlord. The house we moved in to was ... shocking. It took me weeks to clear the cobwebs, 10 years worth of dust and to sort through the furniture that was stacked ceiling-high. The "house" was quite small and in it were at least 15 dressers, 6 couches, numerous tables in all sizes and and and... it was insane. Not all of it was crap, though. Before moving out we bought all the pieces we liked and later sold them before moving overseas. We made four times the amount that we spent! It was very strange having to weave around furniture to get from one room to the next.

Throughout the years after, I always lived in relatively small spaces with too much stuff. It was always irritating. I'm a sentimental person and I like to hold onto objects that have meaning to me. It goes a little like this: "So-and-So gave me this. I bought this in This Country." Etcetera. There are boxes of "stuff" in random places in the house. Some of the objects in those boxes haven't been touched in years. In the last few years I've been working on downsizing possessions in general. Mine are easy, having my husband follow suit is a whole 'nother story though! But I won't get into that... It's hard to let go of stuff.

My personal story is that after my parents divorced, our house foreclosed and I moved short notice into my Dad's (above) cramped house. My entire childhood went into the landfill. I don't own a single childhood toy or book. All that remains of that time are a few ripped-out pages of my very first diary - red hearts on pink paper and all.

My husband is gone doing some training out of state until the end of the month. In order to escape potential loneliness I've been on a sort-chuck-organize rampage in the house. I did lots of that while nesting, but since it's been difficult while doing a lot of mothering by myself. Now that Lucas is older and can occupy himself for longer periods of time and I don't have a husband to take care of, I have more time to invest in the house. We'll be moving before the winter is officially over with and now is a prime time to gut everything that doesn't need to go through yet another move.

It feels good to see the trash bags go out, to see the charity piles grow and to finally, after a long pause, have space to breathe again. Having a clean, clutter-free living space is energizing for me. I feel less stressed, more at ease and the house seems peaceful and open. There is still plenty that is blocking the total clutter-free state of nirvana I could achieve, but much of that is out of my hands. (Read: husband's stuff, mostly papers and scattered stuff in junk drawers and storage spaces.)

I miss my husband a lot, but at the same time, I've enjoyed the extra time to get things in order and the time to spend with the girls minus guilt trip. Oddly, I've knitted very little. I brought my sweater that's in the process of being designed to knitting group tonight, but picked a meal-time-clean-up washcloth project instead so I could concentrate on socializing. I'm trying to keep my days as full as possible, an occupied mind is one that can't dwell on the negative! :)

I didn't write much about the transition from 2009 to 2010. Although we enjoyed the holidays and some extra time together as a family, it was not without sadness.

My last surviving grandparent, Oma Irma, passed away on an unknown day sometime between the 23rd and the 25th of December. She was found by the lady that did her shopping for her. My father has mentioned the gruesome scene that him and his wife encountered post body removal and I wish he wouldn't. Her ashes were spread in an anonymous urn field, a typical form of burial in Germany.

Over the years I have often felt guilty for not keeping in contact with my Oma more. Life being busy is an excuse that anyone can pull out of their pocket. The real reason we didn't speak much was mainly just the fact that I hardly knew her. When I did speak to her she was very hard to understand. She had a way of speaking... words, sentences, topics all blending together and before I knew it the telephone line would go dead before I had a chance to say goodbye.

I saw her growing up until the age of 5, then we moved to the States. After that I saw her twice when I was 13 - once because my Opa was dying (we were only 4 hours away when he passed), and another time that year for our scheduled vacation. During the 7 years that I lived in Germany I only saw her two more times that I can recall. Every time my Dad went to visit her I had to work or I was out of the country. It was a long haul to see her back then. We had to travel from Heidelberg to Bremen... Four times. That's it.

The last time I saw her was the only time we were able to have a fully understandable German conversation with each other. My Dad and I went together. I wanted to see Oma and the city that I grew up in once more before leaving Germany. For the first time I heard the stories of my Oma's hard life: the poverty, the war, the sicknesses. She gave me her family history in short, sometimes intelligible bouts of half-mumblings between puffs on her cigarette. It was also the time that she bestowed upon me her jewelry, special treasures and her wedding china. She must have known we wouldn't see each other again.

Oma suffered many years under one affliction after another. I should probably be happy that her suffering is over, but all I feel is an emptiness. Hollow. Like my heartbeat echos off the empty places that my loved ones left behind.

I am now orphaned of all grandparents.

My days go by so fast it makes my head spin. I probably don't accomplish that much, but I try to concentrate on major things. Take care of my body, my family, and my house. Socialize. Knit. You get the picture.

The other day I did several loads of laundry, felted bowls in between loads and went for a two hour walk with a friend and my son down by the sea wall. We got some very cute photos of his two-month birthday. For awhile I was making lame excuses for not working out. Stupid excuses like not having proper footwear. The last pair of sports shoes that I bought was way back in 7th grade when I wanted to join the track team. I owned them for 11 years. I quit the track team before the first meet. Running sucks. I finally threw my Adidas away when we were moving from Germany to Virginia and I realized that I was hanging onto .. well, trash. Plus, my plastic tote with shoes was absolutely bursting at the seams and the whole scenario was ridiculous.

Reminiscing about footwear : here's a photo of the first pair of socks I ever knit. Back in 2005 I was stuck in Marmaris, Turkey with nothing to do after the tourist season had ended. I had vague plans of possibly staying there on a permanent basis, even if that meant taking the ferry to Greece every six months to renew my tourist visa. (And I swear (crossing my fingers) I was not the girl hiding out with the Russian chick in the bathroom when the Turkish cops came looking for illegal workers.) I was working as a tattoo artist for a friend of a friend of my ex-boss. After months of working up to 14 hours a day, mostly tattooing and sometimes selling jewelry, I was bored out of my mind in the coldest winter Turkey had seen in 50 years. All hopes of living it up in a warm climate for the winter went out the window.

On the weekends I taught my boss's ten-year-old daughter, Sezan, English. I adopted a kitten and I taught myself how to knit socks on DPNs. I simultaneously had two websites open - some picture tutorial to guide me through the steps and a free generic sock pattern. Somehow I managed to wrestle 5 needles and a ball of yarn into two, equally sized and very slippery socks while huddled in front of a space heater. Two months later while recovering from surgery, I knit another pair of pink and orange striped socks. Those were the only pairs of socks I ever finished. I have two loners hiding out, one still on 0-sized needles because I lost my pattern notes and another gigantic I-broke-up-with-him-before-his-socks-were-done sock. One of these days I might get over my new sock-knitting phobia and start again.

Try as a might, I could not find wool locally in Marmaris, the yarn stores only carried acrylic. I still have most of a ball of the green/brown yarn left. I'll probably never use it, it's more a souvenir of a time past. I think it's kind of ugly now, anyways. Maybe I'll knit a charity hat and attach a story to the yarn. Or maybe I'll store it until the moths consume it. (Insert shrug here.) When I flew home to Germany two days after Christmas I left behind a pile of clothing so I could fit more yarn in my luggage. Me? A yarn-stasher in the making? No....

Yesterday and today my best friend since Kindergarten came to visit. We spent two days reconnecting, enjoying the outdoors and having some fun with "ghost hunting" jokes. I haven't seen her since April when my husband and I went home for the baby shower my mother-in-law hosted. I've been lucky enough to spend four days with her this year. We went seven years without seeing each other while I was in Germany.

It's amazing to me how two people can meet as little children and maintain a friendship for so long and through so many changes. Long ago in fourth grade she moved to another city, but it didn't prevent us from seeing each other. We wrote each other letters on colorful stationary and covered them with stickers, always declaring our commitment to staying friends forever. Twice a year we'd have sleepovers and celebrate birthdays together. When we were both in High School she moved to another state and we continued to stay in contact through mail and very long car rides.

Here we are, 20 years after Kindergarten. I can't begin to describe how blessed I feel to have someone like her in my life. We're two incredibly different people, but our love for each other is unconditional. It's been wonderful to see her during this transitional time in life, especially after we've missed out on so much. She brought along her boyfriend and our men got along like old friends.

So, as my flowers have started to bloom and change, so has my life. I don't believe there's been a time in life when I've felt so fulfilled - surrounded by family, friends and blessings, each day has taken on a new beauty.