Hillery Occasionally

I had to remind myself the other day that I haven’t lived with a man in over ten years. 

He asked me last night if it was okay for him to take off for the evening to go play music with his friends, a loosely assembled group of multi-instrumentalists who mostly like to smoke and drink while they make noise.  It’s nothing I’d be yearning to participate in, but that’s beside the point.  He asked me…did I mind?  I’m so used to being completely independent of others in my actions and to having others be independent of me, it took me by surprise.  But in the sweetest possible way.  And I didn’t mind at all.

In my third week here in the wilderness, I’m definitely settling in.  I’ve gotten the kitchen in shape and while I see chaos that requires my attention nearly everywhere,
I have enough of a foothold now that I’m able to keep it at bay and give myself a couple hours at my desk in the mornings while he’s painting in his studio space.  Then I can tackle the ebb and flow of him all around me with the true sense that my identity remains in tact amidst so much foreign matter.

All the snow is melting here and we got running shoes when we were in town earlier in the week.  We’ll go for a walk/jog when he’s done painting.  After lunch I’ll help him with the business of his art—mailing catalogs and compiling high-res images, etc.  I’ll fuss over my little herb garden, do the laundry or some such housework, and then start flipping through cookbooks to see what I might whip up for dinner.

It sounds a little dull, I know, but we always have lists of things to get done that somehow never get fully crossed off.  We have to get new mattresses so his parents have a place to sleep when they visit at the end of the month, the stove has to be fixed, and we need the kitchen knives sharpened.  His paintings must be photographed for invitations and catalogs for his upcoming shows and crates have to be made to ship them all.  The doing of these things, together, is somehow so satisfying…much better than the annoyance of having to accomplish them on one’s own.

We go to the nearest small town about once a week to run errands and eat dinner out, maybe catch a movie.  He’s very good about taking me on little adventures too.  Last weekend we went to a natural hot springs in the mountains about an hour and a half north.  When we got there all the trees were green with only a few snowcaps remaining on some of the highest branches.  When we woke up in our little chalet about eight inches of snow had dumped and the choppers were running helli-skiers up the mountain right over our heads.  We were in a whiteout winter wonderland and we went right back in the water to enjoy it in transformed surroundings.  Of course, I forgot my camera.

Today I remind myself that I’ve never lived with anyone who’s taken such good care of me or cared for me so much.