July, already. The year’s half over, but in a way, it feels like it’s just getting started. A truck arrived last Tuesday, carrying all of our furniture and belongings, the remaining pieces of our home which had been tucked away in storage back in Providence. The rooms of our new apartment, empty for weeks, are now filled to the brim with boxes. The cats are loving these new towers to climb; the baby, not so much, as he is confined to the small areas of safe space we’ve been able to carve out for him while unpacking.
But we’re getting there, slowly.
We’ve eaten a lot of take-out these last couple weeks, and simple things that could be prepared at home with the limited amount of supplies we brought with us. There were a lot of sandwiches, and not as many vegetables as I would have liked. But we’re getting there, slowly.
I hopped the 6 to Grand Central Terminal last Friday on my way home from work, walked the familiar corridors and proceeded home with meat and cheese and vegetables, a bottle of wine and a split of something fizzy, just like old times, and though so much has changed since those old times, the muscle memory was still there. The dance was familiar.
My main goal for this past weekend was to get our new kitchen in shape, to locate the boxes with our cookware and knives, to set up our table and chairs and high chair, so we could begin to really cook again, to eat meals seated around our table again. Julian sprouted four teeth in what feels like a heartbeat, and he’s been eager to put them to use, tasting everything we’re eating: pizza and pork dumplings, fresh strawberries from the farmers’ market, grape tomatoes and cheeses, grass-fed hanger steak, pastured pork chops, chicken and eggs and fish that was swimming just hours before it hit the pan.
Our setup’s not perfect yet. There are still boxes to unpack, glasses and plates and platters to put away (and sadly, a few casualties to dispose of). There’s more work to do, but I am really looking forwarding to getting home from work tonight, holding Julian while his daddy mixes a drink and we talk about the day, then cooking up a good meal for my guys, and hopefully, sitting around our kitchen table to eat.
We’re getting there, slowly.