Rite of passage

There are certain rites of passage that we are told about, beginning fairly early in life.  We just went through one of them: we bought our first house!  Over the last month or so, we placed a bid on a home, nervously awaited that bid to be accepted, provided mountains of virtual paperwork to our mortgage specialist, and in a flurry of signatures became homeowners.  We moved to a different part of town (Hello Deep South Austin!) and now have twice the living space we had in the condo.   Quinten now has a yard to play in.  It only took him about 2 days to decide it was ok to run through the grass.

We’re now on the City’s single-stream recycling system.  With all the recycling we’re now able to do, not to mention the composting we’re starting, I think with a few tweaks on what products we buy (think packaging), we might get really, really close to ZERO waste.  It’s exciting!  The neighborhood has a very different feel to it, especially after having lived in Brentwood for the last 8 years.  More working class, less I don’t even know what.  Obviously my words are escaping me.  But it feels good to be without an upstairs neighbor.  And I love the feel of the grass under my bare feet while I watch my toddler run back and forth in the yard.  And I love that we’re home.

There is a small bit of sadness involved with leaving the condo behind.  There were so many firsts there: where we first lived as a family, where Quinten took his first steps, where Enid was conceived.  But, for me at least, it also represented the place where I toiled to become part of the family team, instead of charging forward as a lone, headstrong woman.  In taking this big, home-buying step, I feel like I have finally relinquished my need to have a quick exit should things get too “heavy” for me to deal with.  The condo was always the place I saw myself fleeing from in the night, child/ren in arm as I continued my pattern of running away from problems I didn’t want to invest myself in fixing.  All told, it was a hard 2 years for me (for us).

So this is me turning over a new leaf.  I am no longer Katrina, runner-away from all things hard (but probably worth the effort).  I am Katrina, wife, mother, homeowner, passer of another adulthood rite.  It feels pretty good, actually.  I wonder if anyone else has noticed the difference.