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Wednesday
Jun182008
Power on
June 18, 2008
I have these moments when I'm lying on my bed in the small flat we're renting, staring at the ceiling fan which is not moving because of a power out, willing it to move, and I'm thinking, is this really me, eight months pregnant with my fourth child? Because I swear it's someone else.
We have a game, actually, where we point at the fans and yell, Power ON! and the last person to say it before the power goes back on wins.
Maybe you can tell that this little flat is getting a bit old? Although we thank God everyday for a roof over our heads. And the ceiling fans, which usually work. And the food that we make in our little kitchen, even though yesterday I had a bad experience with some peppers that I thought were harmless capsicums- green peppers, you know- but turned out to be of the blow the roof of of your mouth variety. The kids had plain rice for dinner, and I squashed those guilty feelings like a bug under my shoe with the thought that even in America kids eat plain rice for dinner sometimes.
India is incense, bathing by candlelight, tooting horns on the street, color everywhere, tropical heat like a sauna.
And here we are, being us, winding up the last of this time in the little flat over the bar on the busy street. Soon we move to our temporary home in a house in the jungle- we'll be living here for about five months, long enough to have the baby and get our feet under us a little more and look for a more permanent location. The stuff we shipped will arrive soon, and we will no longer have to stick to sudoku (YaYa's getting really good) and origami (Kid A is pretty amazing) and the three shows I have downloaded on I-Tunes. Soon we will have internet access and phones and homeschool will start up again (we had an early summer break this year) and everything will stabilize a bit.
I look at my kids and my husband and my heart almost breaks with love for them. I feel my Muffin kicking me and I am so happy to be here, waiting for our sweet little monsoon baby.
We have a game, actually, where we point at the fans and yell, Power ON! and the last person to say it before the power goes back on wins.
Maybe you can tell that this little flat is getting a bit old? Although we thank God everyday for a roof over our heads. And the ceiling fans, which usually work. And the food that we make in our little kitchen, even though yesterday I had a bad experience with some peppers that I thought were harmless capsicums- green peppers, you know- but turned out to be of the blow the roof of of your mouth variety. The kids had plain rice for dinner, and I squashed those guilty feelings like a bug under my shoe with the thought that even in America kids eat plain rice for dinner sometimes.
India is incense, bathing by candlelight, tooting horns on the street, color everywhere, tropical heat like a sauna.
And here we are, being us, winding up the last of this time in the little flat over the bar on the busy street. Soon we move to our temporary home in a house in the jungle- we'll be living here for about five months, long enough to have the baby and get our feet under us a little more and look for a more permanent location. The stuff we shipped will arrive soon, and we will no longer have to stick to sudoku (YaYa's getting really good) and origami (Kid A is pretty amazing) and the three shows I have downloaded on I-Tunes. Soon we will have internet access and phones and homeschool will start up again (we had an early summer break this year) and everything will stabilize a bit.
I look at my kids and my husband and my heart almost breaks with love for them. I feel my Muffin kicking me and I am so happy to be here, waiting for our sweet little monsoon baby.
Reader Comments (9)
Rae, you are doing great with that Indian summer. Here in Texas the heat is the number one most uncomfortable thing for pregnant ladies. I can't imagine the Indian summer.
How cute on the peppers!! Kids do have plain rice in America and some I know are lucky for that. My mother would be relieved to get my sister to have a small spoonful of sauce on her pasta or rice. She was a very good dancer and we used to give her a hard time that her legs were so skinny that her fishnets looked like tights. Ole' Skinny girl was(is) always the strongest!
Hang in there! I still think fondly of my wondering days when I stayed in super small room with a cot sized bed and a scratchy wool blanket in the middle of summer with snow on the mountain until I got my small apartment. I was freezing coming from Texas but I never slept so well.
Putting up a light fixture in a pitch black bathroom (with no ladder) was an interesting challenge in my new apartment. Thankfully I did have a kitchen and bathroom sink. Oh the luxuries of the US.
:)
Dear Rachel,
I met you at a park in Jerusalem - we only spent a little while together while our kids played in the sand, but I feel incredibly lucky that you gave me your blog address. It strikes such a chord with me and Im always moved by your courage and openness. I know a little about the feeling of being completely unmoored in a new place, deep in the unfamiliar - wanting it and resisting it at the same time. You seem to be finding your feet and your own space, but I wanted to share a poem by Theodore Roethke with you which always gives me renewed strength when I seem to be faltering in the unknown, even just the unknown of the everyday. It's called The Waking and the last stanza is particularly apt:
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
Heres the whole poem:
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go.
I've been "lurking" for a while now. And I love your blog. You totally amaze me. Your strength to up and move and try somethign new is incredible. Thanks for sharing all that you do.
I'm intrigued by your family's decision to move to India. I'd love to hear the story of how you came to that decision...is it on your blog somewhere? I spent a summer in India 12 years ago and while it was just a short time, I can relate to almost everything you write about - the bus trips, the fans, the heat, the lonlieness, the amazing difference between India and the US. That was my husband's second trip and throughout the years we've discussed the idea of moving to India...early in our marriage - before the trip we made together - we really thought we may move there. And lately, the idea seems to creep up on us every now and again. I'll be following your story. All the best!
What an amazing adventure you and your family are having. You and your husband are giving your children such a wonderful gift.
I am always praying for your family even though I have never met you all.
Blessings.
Enjoying reading your posts. Sending love, and prayers! Rebeca
Hi, I came from Sara's blog (walk slowly...) when she linked here. I love your posts. I spent 4 months in India in 2001 and loved every minute of it. I long to go back and maybe live and work there with my family one day.
I am 35 weeks with my fourth child - woa!! :) Just thought I'd say hi and that I appreciate our common bonds!
I watched The Namesake last night and was moved by the incredible sights and sounds of India. What an amazing culture you are immersed in.
Just wondering...Will your baby be a dual citizen?
shalom rachel,
I worked w/ gadia years ago on the intel project... the casual vicissitudes of life and electronics broke our connection and I'd dearly love to be back in touch. can you, would you forward this note to her please? -many thanks, michal