Waters

Did we mention there was a water issue at the new house?

Our first morning here, one kiddo got in the shower and then I did, same as always, except when I turned on my water, his water stopped.

The same thing happened when I was doing dishes and someone flushed a toilet: the water just stopped.

Then I noticed it took forever for the washer to fill up, and the dishwasher sounded like it was churning.

So I called the city and the realtor and asked que pasa?

Turns out, the guy had come out to turn our water on before closing, but his fancy handle thing broke. He had to go get another one, but got called to an emergency and forgot to come back. So we had very little water pressure because they forgot to turn the water all the way on.

Good times.

It’s all fixed now.

Today was so good for me, and very much needed. It was a difficult challenge to not unpack things yesterday, but we depend on Sabbath blessings and very much needed the rest. So today felt more productive, being better rested and starting to feel better physically (as now it is Nathan’s turn, so I can defer to him for the hacking cough).

I had the day off work, so enjoyed a slower morning. I got the kids doughnuts as a surprise for being so good (mostly) and (mostly) helpful during the move. Then I got my session notes done for work, researched for an upcoming talk, finished laundry (now that we have water), and made lunch. Nathan and I had our couple study early because we knew it would be a late night, and only after all that did we go back to Owasso.

The Owasso house was in better shape than I had remembered, but still felt overwhelming. We got all the last random things boxed up, and moved another load with our cars. Nathan and his dad will get the last of the house things tomorrow, and then the ladies will help me clean it on Thursday. We will have to go back after that sometime to get the final things from the garage and yard.

I can’t bear to think of leaving my garden, and I know it will never be the same because no one will love it the way I did.

The attic is also another sting coming, as it has more of mom’s things left from when she moved out of my house when we got married, so I will have one more layer of mom to sort through.

There’s that.

We brought back the on load, picked up the kids, and met Nathan’s parents for dinner. They brought us taco soup, one of my favorites because it is pure nutrients but also delicious, and they stayed for family home evening. The teenager taught us about gratitude, and we all took turns reading our scriptures, and I wondered at how normal things could be a week later… that already a whole week has passed since we finally closed on the house.

I wondered at how normal things could be a year later… that already a whole year has passed since mom was killed.

I changed the pictures on the fridge tonight. I update then every year after Christmas. It was time.

She wasn’t in my adventures this year.

She isn’t here, on the fridge.

She wasn’t here, in this year.

Except she was everywhere.

My brother wants the recipe for our grandmother’s oatmeal cookies. They are the amazing kind that no one else can duplicate. Except that I suddenly and spontaneously figured it out one day after doing her temple work. I know. Mormon legends. But I am just saying. That’s when it happened. So now I make them for him from time to time, and he has asked for the recipe.

Excepting I don’t use recipes.

To me, cooking is a creative expression that just happens. Especially when fresh ingredients are involved. Families of seasonings lay out like a color palette, and the process of choosing is far more intuitive than anything a person could capture on paper.

A recipe seems so confining.

There’s no air in there.

Everyone is gone, and my brother is far away, and I just moved to a brand new town.

This could escalate quickly into irritating self-pity, so I respond with pragmatism.

Use the regular oats, I say, use the regular oats instead of quick oats, and you will be close.

It was a good day, you see.

Gentle but productive.

We didn’t work harder on the house after the parents left. The teenager decided it was finally time to shower, and Nathan had conference calls with his composer about agents and producers and casting this and that. I could have worked hard and got a lot done, but instead, I just sat and played with pictures.

Because I know my world has changed.

I just don’t know how to tell the story yet.

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About Emily

I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints since 2009. I serve as a Chaplain, and work as a counselor. I got bilateral cochlear implants in 2010, but will always love sign language. I choose books over television, and organics over processed. Nothing is as close to flying as ballroom dancing - except maybe running, when in the solo mood. I would rather be outside than anywhere else, especially at the river riding my bike or kayaking. PhD in Marriage and Family Therapy, and currently doing a post-doc in Jewish Studies and an MDiv in Pastoral Counseling. The best thing about Emily World is that it's always an adventure, even if (not so) grammatically precise. The only thing better than writing is being married to a writer. Nathan Christensen and I were married in the Oklahoma City temple on 13 October 2012, and have since fostered more than eighty-five children. We have adopted the six who stayed, and are totally and completely and helplessly in love with our family. Nathan writes musical theater, including "Broadcast" (a musical history of the radio) and an adaption of Lois Lowry's "The Giver". He served his mission in South Korea, has taught song-writing in New York City public schools, and worked as a theater critic for a Tucson newspaper. This is not an official Web site of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

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