My last post was written on our dining room table, staring into a crowded living room, a bustling avenue right outside our balcony. In a couple of hours I had to get ready for the ten-minute drive to work. I was tired, homesick, future uncertain.
This post began on that same table, but now it overlooks a backyard next to a dried up pond. Leia, into her fifth day of spaydomhood, snores on the matress we set up in the living room so she won’t go upstairs, where I hear Y. walking around and getting ready to leave. I type as I get ready to join her, to a destination I’ve forgotten, but I know we’re taking my car. My car. As in, I am paying for it with my money, and I use it almost exclusively. In fact, I’m writing this post at the dealership, giving Ozzie (that’s how I named the car) his first service.
Life has a way of changing.
Did I mention that all this happened –the new house, the new car, Leia’s spaying– in less than three months?
I’m not gonna lie, but this made me feel pretty darn overwhelmed for a minute. Where we live is called Davenport, a city some 20 miles away from where we lived. It reminds me of the so-called “satellite cities” near Caracas, mostly residential areas where people would commute to their jobs in the main city (think the relationship between New York and New Jersey, to a point). My trip to work went from ten minutes to between forty-eight and fifty-two. And sometimes I leave at midnight to come back the next morning. And in the worst twist of all, I’ve grown to hate Saturdays (I open, so I have to wake up at five so I can leave at seven) and love Mondays (my ONE day off).
But it’s my commute in my car, to our house. It is scary to have such a responsibility, but it is also something I am incredibly proud of. I got here with $200 in my pocket and we started life living in a single room with party-prone hosts. I felt so scared, so homesick, but I turned to inspiration from a very large source to get through.
Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson had seven dollars to his name when he was released by the Canadian Football League and before wrestling supra-stardom came calling. So yeah, I had started out better than the most electrifying man in sports entertainment, but I doubt I have even half his discipline. That’s where I credit Y. It is because she saved and toiled and starved for so long that we’re here. It is because she sees the man I sometimes doubt I am and makes him do things.
And even on days when I feel I’m not giving enough, she reminds me that we got here together.
Life has a way of changing, indeed… so far, for the better.
My Mind in Letters 