Dreaming of Tractors
I had a dream last night that I went out to visit some friends who had bought an old farm in Marin county... I fell in love with the place and couldn't wait to move out there to start a farm stand with them.
And get a tractor. Yes, I still miss my tractor.
I think I'm going through a midlife crisis. Again, some would say. Maybe it's that the house is a mess. Maybe it's three solid days of rain and gray. I'm not sure. But I realize this house we live in feels like purgatory to me. We bought it in a rush to move back from our brief stay in Upstate New York. It was in the same school district and while I did not like it very much, it was the right thing at the right time.
Now it feels like a cage.
"Mrs. Perkins" death made me think a lot about some of the things that I hold very dear. I love open space and the woods will always be my chapel. I miss riding horses, and the old barn we played in, making hay forts.
What strikes me, is I miss feeling grounded to the earth.
I know my kids are self proclaimed "city kids" and nothing about this appeals to them. When we did live on 70 acres of land, they played in the garage. Zachary wouldn't leave to explore the land without some toilet paper on hand because he thought it was so far to go. Ben was horrified by the one time we got Chinese food- it smelled like something dead and not chicken. Jake was probably the only one who had a great experience- he went to a fabulous preschool and didn't mind the 40 minute each way drive to get there and back. He was very little though.
For the most part, we were all out of place. Except when I was on my tractor- I felt very much in place and at home. I planted 12 ten foot elm trees with that tractor along our driveway. It was beyond awkward one day, though, when someone pulled into the driveway while I was waiting with my son for the bus, asking for a meeting to discuss a program to be funded.
My mother was very well known in town and by association, so was I.
Ultimately, it was the beginning of the end of my close relationship with my mom. It was, without question, a mistake.
So what is this about now for me? Am I running away? Am I looking for grounding? Do I just hate this house because of what it represents to me? I know Marin county is in my head because Jeanine was out in San Francisco last week. She went to hear a concert conducted by an alum and said even on a rainy day, going over the Golden Gate bridge was spectacular.
I really could live here, she said to me.
The dream was sweet. I knew I had friends there, so I wouldn't be lonely. I knew it would mean hard work, and I was excited about that. It felt like a new lease on life.
And I'm not sure where it comes from inside me.
And get a tractor. Yes, I still miss my tractor.
I think I'm going through a midlife crisis. Again, some would say. Maybe it's that the house is a mess. Maybe it's three solid days of rain and gray. I'm not sure. But I realize this house we live in feels like purgatory to me. We bought it in a rush to move back from our brief stay in Upstate New York. It was in the same school district and while I did not like it very much, it was the right thing at the right time.
Now it feels like a cage.
"Mrs. Perkins" death made me think a lot about some of the things that I hold very dear. I love open space and the woods will always be my chapel. I miss riding horses, and the old barn we played in, making hay forts.
What strikes me, is I miss feeling grounded to the earth.
I know my kids are self proclaimed "city kids" and nothing about this appeals to them. When we did live on 70 acres of land, they played in the garage. Zachary wouldn't leave to explore the land without some toilet paper on hand because he thought it was so far to go. Ben was horrified by the one time we got Chinese food- it smelled like something dead and not chicken. Jake was probably the only one who had a great experience- he went to a fabulous preschool and didn't mind the 40 minute each way drive to get there and back. He was very little though.
For the most part, we were all out of place. Except when I was on my tractor- I felt very much in place and at home. I planted 12 ten foot elm trees with that tractor along our driveway. It was beyond awkward one day, though, when someone pulled into the driveway while I was waiting with my son for the bus, asking for a meeting to discuss a program to be funded.
My mother was very well known in town and by association, so was I.
Ultimately, it was the beginning of the end of my close relationship with my mom. It was, without question, a mistake.
So what is this about now for me? Am I running away? Am I looking for grounding? Do I just hate this house because of what it represents to me? I know Marin county is in my head because Jeanine was out in San Francisco last week. She went to hear a concert conducted by an alum and said even on a rainy day, going over the Golden Gate bridge was spectacular.
I really could live here, she said to me.
The dream was sweet. I knew I had friends there, so I wouldn't be lonely. I knew it would mean hard work, and I was excited about that. It felt like a new lease on life.
And I'm not sure where it comes from inside me.
posted by Sara at 11:43 AM
4 Comments:
You could go whole hog the other way and move to a more urban neighborhood. Remember what Sherlock Holmes said about the countryside?
ha! you know, I just need to spout off every once in a while. I don't want to move.
when the kids are all done with school? sure. but not now.
is it dreaming, or spring fever?
both, I think donald.
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