goddessing

Two weeks ago I was packing for my first big trip in nine years. Traveling is hard on this body of mine.

Nonetheless, with car loaded and sister at the wheel, we spent two days traveling 1100 miles, crossing fertile prairie and piney woods to make our way to her home in Houston, Texas.

I have to say that, after nine years' absence, Houston seems exotic to me. Palm trees, orange trees, hibiscus. Taquerias, bayous, tropical storms. Full Gospel, Mission Bible, Free Evangelical -- small churches serving independent congregations living conservative, ecstatic religious lives.

What started as a quest has turned into an odyssey. We came here to go through the things Cobi left behind two years ago when he ended his life. We sorted photos, school things, trophies, tee shirts, diaries, old toys, CDs, and miscellaneous memorabilia. We gave some things to Goodwill and to friends and neighbors and conserved the rest in boxes to be visited now and then. The chalk art he did in 11th grade is destined for a frame shop and then for a place of pride in the Feng-Shui perfect spot in my sister's house.

And next, we transformed the entire house. Cobi's room became the media room and music studio. We cranked up Diana Krall and each took turns on the flute riffing along with favorite tunes. Bedroom and livingroom were de-cluttered and re-arranged. Bathroom closet was completely emptied and re-tooled. An out-dated filing cabinet and book shelf found new homes with neighbors and were replaced with "new" furniture bought in antique and thrift shops in The Heights. The alcove opposite the front door of the house was transformed into a Zen spot: we hauled everything out of it and made it simple with a secretary, an antique mirror, and a candle on a wooden candle-holder that once belonged to our mother.

My sister said, "I'll have to make sure I don't look at myself every time I come in the door."

I said, "Oh yes you will look at yourself! You'll do so intentionally and each time affirm that you are a worthy manifestation of the divine, a self-blessing."

And outside the front door in the small courtyard/entry way we made our most dramatic transformation. We took out a falling-down gate, hauled out the soil that had been built up over a couple of decades for mini-gardens that sometimes worked and sometimes didn't, and made a rock-filled, flagstone-lined container garden, twenty feet long, accented with large plants purchased at a nearby Vietnamese nursery, exotics in orange, yellow, crimson and rust destined to be transplanted into clay pots of various sizes and shapes in mid July when our vacation is over.

Today, we pack the car and make a trip that is a different kind of going home. We're bound for the dark rich riverbottom soil of Lamar County, for a stay with old friends in their mostly off-the-grid country home, and for a visit to my true home -- the house of my childhood, a turn-of-the century "big house" with parquet floors, tall ceilings, a huge kitchen, a large wrap-around porch on an immense lot grounded with oak trees, pecan trees, a dogwood, crepe myrtle, and my personal jungle (the undeveloped lot behind the house next door). We're bringing a gift for the old girl, who is now registered as a historic Texas home -- the original brass doorknobs and knockers that my mother took with her when we moved out, treasures found in one of the boxes in my sister's attic.

In this house my body and soul developed. Its large rooms full of laughter and fear, love and bitterness, antiques, imagination, daydreaming, and creative projects are where I established an enduring relationship with hearth and earth and with a younger sister with whom I share a 50-year friendship and unconditional love.

And after Lamar County and Paris, Texas? A return to Wisconsin, to the lake, the roses, my own bed, my cats, and my beloved. And for her, a treasure unearthed in a shop in the Heights, something she'd never guess I'd come home with, something I hope will delight her inner child and inspire her spirit life.

And then two more weeks with my sister at my house, working and transforming there as we have done here.

And despite the hardships and strange food and situations, this cranky body of mine is holding up quite well. Perhaps I won't wait another nine years for an odyssey.



What a lovely going home story, and so nice you and your sister got to take that journey together. Thanks for sharing.
 

2003-2005