2002-12-03 - 11:48 a.m.

On the internal soundtrack: Bach's Prelude VI, from Book II of the Well-Tempered Clavier

Written 11/19 and 12/03:

A certain party has recently fallen madly in love, under circumstances with certain similarities to my relationship with Poindexter. So naturally I've gotten all mushy lately.

I asked Poindexter when he had fallen in love with me, and he said, "The first time I saw your bikini-clad butt." (As luck would have it, the first time he ever saw me was diving into his grandparents' pool.)

Then I said, "Be serious." And so he said, "Well, probably the second time we saw each other." This was when I was 18, and I told him that he was the kind of person I wanted to marry, but that I didn't want to get married until I was 25. We were living on opposite coasts, and we only saw each other when my family was in California on vacation. But my family would spend a few days at his family's house, so we had a lot of time to talk. And there are certainly no pretenses when your families are standing around watching. His mother saw what was happening between us from the very beginning.

So, I thought that was very sweet. But I also wondered if that was jumping the gun a little. Especially since we both got involved in long-term relationships with other people between that time and when we got together six years later.

But maybe not. I remember I had very, very strong feelings for him all those years. I remember thinking that I was going to have to resolve those feelings before I could get married. Not that I actually wanted to marry anyone in the interim, anyway! And I tend to be a little skeptical of the phrase "in love", anyway -- what is that but a combination of friendship, commitment, and attraction? Maybe the commitment part was missing between ages 18 and 24, but the friendship and attraction were there.

Either way, it's sweet.

Written on Monday night (11/18):

So. Now that the house is all pretty and organized -- the only thing left to unpack is rarely-used china and books, really -- maybe I will start to feel more settled.

The thing I hate about moving -- as much as I truly love getting to know a new place -- is that it takes me a long time to really feel at "home" in my house. A year, usually. There's something about seeing a full set of seasons (and something to do with angles of sunlight, too) that cements the feeling. So it'll be a while. The good thing, as I mentioned earlier, is that Philadelphia itself is beginning to feel very normal and familiar.

Wednesday afternoon (11/20):

Last night I was washing a dish in the sink, with MIL next to me dealing with her coffee pot, and suddenly it felt like a few pieces clicked into place on the "homey" issue. I said to her, "Wow, having you here to visit makes me feel like this place is really ours!"

It really does. With my parents, we're still establishing something new -- short, more frequent visits because of the closer proximity. So having them over for dinner on a weeknight is still a pleasant surprise. But with the MIL, we're re-establishing a routine of fall and spring two-week visits, so that helps things feel more familiar.

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