Homesick at Home

As I sit here writing this (and being dyslexic, evidently, because I just typed "righting" instead of "writing"), I keep hearing scratchings and wing flutterings coming from the top of the Vermont castings' stovepipe, right where it joins with the chimney. When I said I wanted someone to keep me company while I did my school here in the basement, I didn't mean for that someone to have claws and feathers...and to be dumb enough to fly down a four-story chimney.

We have called mom and dad, who are on a business trip with the wee-uns, and dad says to get it out once it dies, otherwise... (< read, dot dot dot). 

I guess we are going to be a little more proactive than that, though, because now Isaac has a pair of pliers, and is unscrewing the stovepipe and pulling the (billion pound) stove out from the wall. He is armed with a flashlight and towel. He is saying what a dusty mess this is making, and Maryah has just come down with her camera and is videoing the whole thing.

The live action streaming of words stops with the above, though, because I was just called upon to hold a large, clear bowl over the chimney opening. We figured out it was attracted to light, so within one minute it had hopped into the bowl. Isaac put a towel over the bowl, and we quickly and carefully tipped the bowl back and wrapped it up in the towel. We ran it out of the basement, into the driveway, and then let it (a blackbird) go. It flew away very fast, with nary a word of thanks. All well. So after some dancing; high fives all around; a call to mom and dad to let them know we were victorious; vacuuming up the mess and putting the stove back together again; life has settled back into normalcy. (P.S. Isaac, you have redeemed yourself in the area of crazy birds and the parents being gone.)

The past two weeks of non-posty-ness have been fairly normal, I suppose. School got really crazy since this subterm was finishing up, which meant extra studying and multiple final papers. Andrew came home for spring break, which was exceedingly pleasant, but due to car problems mom and dad drove him back.

Which means that we are all alone.

(With exception to the 5 shotguns, the cast iron fry pan, the protective dog, the 6 foot 6 neighbor, and the other neighbor who works for the FBI. Yes, I am talking to you, stalker.)

The alone/homesick/I miss my family feelings didn't kick in until last night when we got back from a friends' house. The H's had invited us up after church since a little supervision is never a bad thing, and we spent the beautiful, warm, sunny day either hiking or eating (picnic!!) or cow-watching or reading aloud on the back porch. Mostly, it was one of those afternoons where you feel super content and secure, but then feel silly for feeling that way because you know it has to do with the sun being out. But it did also have to do with being with a family who makes a perfect replacement family when your own is gone.  So after we got home, I sat on the cot we had set up for Andrew in the library, and the "lost" feelings settled in. I was homesick at home. My heart didn't know whether to go north or south. One minute I was like "I want M&D" and the next, "I want Mr. & Mrs. H."

Is it a bad thing that I am 19 and still adult dependent?

But aside from the bird incident, today went smoothly enough. I even cooked up the kale mom had challenged me to use.

When I was doing my math, I found this virtual sticky note on my computer screen: "Good by Mattea. Love Misha:)" which replaced the one she had written a few days ago that said "I love you."

So now I miss Misha. I miss that she always understands me, even when I get my words mixed up. The other day I was attempting to wash out the compost bucket, and I said, somewhat chagrined, "The froze is hosen!" Meaning, of course, the hose is frozen. Misha, though, understood and didn't skip a beat and said, "That is why you wash it in the pantry sink!"


She also obeys me even when my commands are hypocritical. For instance, a couple days ago I was outside feeding the dog, and Misha and Sanna were running around in the yard chasing the chickens or something. Problem: it is 25 degrees out and they both have no coats, and are wearing flip flops. I spew out the command that they must put on adequate clothing and real shoes and then continue on my way to feed the dog. At which point I look down and realize I am barefooted and have no coat.

Oops. So much for setting a good example. I can't believe they listened to me.