Friday, February 27, 2009

please give us solid ground

I know we dont live here anymore
We bought an old house on the Danforth

She loves me and her body keeps me warm

I'm happy here

But this is where we used to live


- Barenaked Ladies, "Old Apartment"


Last week (my goodness, has it only been a week?), Tuesday, I lay snuggled under our verdant duvet in our deliciously soft queen-sized bed, beside my husband, and sighed.

"Do you remember moving in to this apartment?" I whisper.
"Mm-hm..."
"Remember how nervous we were - after we had mastered living with each other at a resort in Cuba for a week - to start all over again here? How awkward were we?"
Andrew chuckles.
"And now we're professionals."

That was the last night that we slept in our apartment on Annette Street. As my breathing deepened and my logic blended to dreams I could hear the clock in the bathroom marking the seconds as they passed. Tick-tick-tick-tick. I knew I would miss our apartment. It smelled like ours.

In a post I wrote about changes, I quoted Jonathan Eibeschutz: "All pleasures contain an element of sadness". In time, there will be many more posts about our new, butter-yellow house, renovations, paint swatches, interior decorating, celebrations, memories. I know it because it has already, in one week, begun to smell like ours.

And on the first night we slept there, I lay snuggled in our deliciously soft queen-sized bed, beside my husband, who had already put up the the clock in the bathroom. I drifted to sleep while it marked the seconds as they passed.

Tick-tick-tick-tick.


Sing to me a prayer of hope and strength
I will sing to you
As if my chest is glass

As we build, please give us solid ground

When the rain becomes a flood
I believe that we will find
Tree branches to climb
Far, far, far from here

Sing to me a prayer of hope and strength.
I will sing to you
As if my chest is glass.

When the weather settles down
We will search through this mess
Where I believe that we will find
Through things left behind
The place where we began

Sing to me, please sing to me
Always through these times
And we’ll begin again.

- Sleeping at Last, "Sing to Me"















2 comments:

beth said...

I love the pictures, guys!
They are oozing peace and tranquility...

:)

Seth Kimberley Graham Hunter said...

it smelled like ours....