The house is clean. The floors are swept and mopped; the rug is vacuumed; the furniture is dusted and polished. The laundry is done; the tub and the sinks are scrubbed. The fridge is stocked. The yoga props are all in the yoga room. The house is quiet, and Jupiter sleeps on the couch, his left front paw gently draped over his eyes to block out the light.
When we moved to Chicago almost three years ago, we did so for many reasons. However, one of the most crucial ones, was to be closer to our families, and to a large number of friends that live on this side of the world (it should be noted that my definition of "this side" spans the large geographical area, from Europe to the Caribbean, with some random US States included in the mix). Of course, by moving closer to them, we moved far away from many others, who were an integral part of our path and our lives, for many years, for many laughs, for many tears.
That first Winter, as we settled into our lovely, much larger (and cheaper) apartment, our loved ones started to slowly pour in.
First came my friend V, whom I had met years ago in San Francisco, and had immediately fallen in love with, and who years ago moved to Madison, Wisconsin. Then J's best friend from home, B, stopped by for a few days... And by the time the ice was melting and the tulips and daffodils started to sprout, our phones and emails were constantly receiving messages with travel plans and dates from loved ones from all over the world.
A few days here, a few weeks there. A few breaks in between. The bed and breakfast was officially open (except at our place, you actually get dinner too :)). They started to arrive on Easter, and didn't stop until after Thanksgiving.
Last year, in the same fashion, with the first blooms came our friend Y. Then the Easter bunny dropped off my niece for a few days, after that my brother and sister in law, and then Derby brought with it C, V, J, and T, among a few others who didn't stay with us. And once again, until the leaves all fell off, and the cold snuck in fiercely and vibrantly, the guests didn't stop.
This year, the love has kept pouring in. Derby Day became a race to see who got the futon, who got the couch, who claimed the air mattress and who would end up on the floor by the litter box.
And as the sun shone it's warmth through the summer, and when in autumn the mums and the pumpkins started to make an appearance at the farmers market, while the smell of apple cider and concord grapes perfumed the air, they each brought with them more and more of our loved ones from far away. Even my grandma came to see us!
We've had visitors from San Francisco, from New York (or should I say New Jersey...) from Florida, Kentucky, Wisconsin, Indiana, Montreal, the Dominican Republic, England and last but not least, Madrid.
One of my favorite bands, the Wood Brothers, has a song that says: "I'm glad to see you, but I'll be happy to see you go."
I must agree, as having guests can be quite draining: Preparing for their arrival, sharing one bathroom with double the butts, eating out all the time and drinking WAY more than one is used to (yes, for me that means having A WHOLE two drinks in one day). Moving your yoga mat every morning to whichever piece of floor is furthest from whoever is still asleep (and if everyone is asleep choosing the space between the bedroom and the bathroom, because it has the least creaky floor boards), going to bed long past one's bedtime almost every single night... In the event that the guests decided to stay at a hotel, then tracking back and forth between downtown and home. Finally, no matter the age or nationality of the visitors, there is almost always a visit to the Magnificent Mile, the Cloud Gate (yes, that is the Bean's real name), and some random Chicago "staple".
By the time they leave, I'm beat! I look forward to going to bed early and to my daily yoga and meditation practice. My belly is super excited that I will once again be feeding it nutrient dense delicious foods that it knows how to digest, my liver is delighted that it will not have to process anymore than two or three ounces of wine on any given week, and J and I are both happy to be able spend a little alone time together.
But even with all that, hours, minutes, and sometimes seconds after we say goodbye, I am sad, and even lonely to see them go. My grandma once said to me: " I don't like seeing you because when I do I miss you more..." And as I watch them go into their hotel, or down the stairs to catch the train, or out the door and into their car to drive away, tears slowly start building up in my eyes, and that statement rings so true.
For in our household, a crowded home is never just crowded with bodies. It's just as crowded with memories, with laughter, with hugs, and inevitably with tears. With old familiar dynamics that take on a life of their own immediately upon contact. With walks, talks, and sometimes runs. With pancakes and bacon, pastelon de platanos maduros and guandules con coco, with beers and bourbon, with rum and cigars, with glasses of wine and pear and cranberry jam. With toast eaten standing up in the kitchen, because that's what they're used to doing. With cheesecake (yes it's the same recipe from when were thirteen, give and take, and no, it's not written down, we all just know it). With love.
And as all the noise settles, and the air becomes still and quiet, it takes a while for all the love that was just all over the place to settle itself into the walls, into the furniture, into our hearts.
These last two visits were particularly challenging for me, because I was so grateful to see them. The fact that they were here, NOW, on back to back weekends, was one of the best gifts the universe has ever granted me. So seing them go, and adjusting back to the cleanliness, to the stillness, and to the good ol' routine, has been that much harder.
Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of loved ones here who give me love, laughter, company and tears. But everyone has their own piece of this heart, and no one can take the other's place.
And as I get back my day to day life, love keeps showing up in the funniest ways, to remind me that as long as I keep giving it, it will keep coming back to me.
The latest gift came in the form of a 14 pound bag of green tomatoes from our neighboor. She's a lovely Polish old lady, whose name is also Ana, and who grows a small little vegetable garden every season, with mostly tomatoes.
And I made the most delicious green tomato jam, green tomato and apple chutney and green tomato and mango chutney with it (some of which still sits on the shelves of my pantry, ready to be shared with the right crowd!).
I never finished this post when I first started writing it, now over three years ago. And I won't post the recipe for these treats, because now, I have a permanent guest. He moved in to the yoga room and took posesion of my precious, peaceful space. He is constantly dirtying the house, messing up the routine, making a bunch of noise, preventing me from eating healthy and making me drink more than I want to. He also, consequently take up most of my time.
But he has filled the house and our lives with more love, laughter and tears than I could ever have dreamed of, and so, I'm keeping him!
