moving kyla Even the best of relationships can be the worst of inhibitors, in ways entirely unintentional and often unnoticed. Compromise is a solution for most people. For me, it is like poison--not because it is inherently bad, but because I AM NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO WITHSTAND IT. ... You should know that by now. 021007 ... amy artists won't be socialized. you do compromise, though, when you see it to be right. 021008 ... mon uow gotta get 050409 ... nom i'm thinking of moving 060209 ... dactyl fractal a change of address, response to distress, pursuit of the best place to be. first, because i've made myself too visible. it was a silly, careless mistake. after that, it'll likely be because of unsavoury neighbours, though now i'm speaking (writing, poking, prodding?) in an entirely different context. moving along though, beyond that next one they all become one big movement. a swipe across a globe that i haven't even seen the littlest fraction yet. well, i have in a way as anyone with a television or a computer or a library has, but it's quite different when the photons were emitted by the actual object. each successive generation removes my trust a little more. i don't believe you yet, national_geographic. 131203 ... tender_square michael and i moved in together seven years ago today. we found a house to rent with a large loft space upstairs, which we thought would be ideal for playing music together. the morning of the move, i met his mom for the first time over breakfast. she was in town to do some health consulting in detroit hospitals for a few days. as we neared northside grill, i told michael how nervous i was to meet her. it was so awkward; i was still married and here i was shacking up with her son. “are you worried because you’re taking her little boy away?” he joked. “don’t say that!” michael never lets me forget that i’m older than him. we’re separated by 15 months, which creates a 3-month span where it seems i’m two years older than him for a time. “how about instead of parking, i slow the car down for you and you can tuck and roll out and i’ll speed off?” i suggested. i don’t know what i was so worried about, his mom was the kindest woman ever. she welcomed me into her life without hesitation over the meal we shared that morning. i thanked her for that when i said farewell to her last summer, telling her that her acceptance meant a lot to me during a time when i was experiencing a great deal of rejection and judgment. she embraced me like i was one of her kids because i *was* her kid. in an early conversation with michael about the unique circumstances of our relationship, his mother said, “these things happen; i saw them in my therapy practice.” she was an incredibly understanding and compassionate woman. that’s probably what i miss the most about her. that and her smile. and her hugs. michael had a bunch of his furniture in storage because he had been temporarily living in a co-op while going to school for u of m for a masters in social work. movers had packed the space for him, tetrised all the pieces in to a shed the size of a closet—we broke one of the legs on the coffee table trying to wedge it out. the day was overcast and all the trees were flaunting their various states of undress as we drove huron parkway’s bends and curves. i snapped photos with my phone, took a selfie and posted it to instagram. brea said i looked homeless in her comment, which i guess was metaphorically was sort of true. we unloaded the truck when we got back to the house—a couch and some end tables, the bed frame, box spring and mattress—and then he and i set off for my apartment to collect some shelves. michael’s mom stayed back at the house cleaning things up for us. brandon was on our honeymoon when i moved out of our apartment. he made me promise that i would never bring michael into the house again, but really, how was i supposed to move tall bookshelves down the stairs by myself? i think brandon realized the ridiculousness of this after; he said smudged the house with sage after he got back from the trip to clear the energy. michael and i were only gone for a half hour or so to collect my furniture, but when we arrived back at our house, his mom had already set up the living room and assembled and arranged the bedroom all on her own. we were floored. that afternoon, i hung curtain rods in our bedroom because there were no window coverings and one of the windows faced the street. as i marked and drilled the holes for the brackets, i mimicked the sounds the power tool made as i pierced the drywall. michael told me later that his mom said i was “quirky” because of this. as we continued unpacking dishes, towels, and bedsheets, michael and i realized we both felt illness coming on, just the sheer exhaustion of all we’d been through in those months catching up with our bodies. after we dropped his mom back off at the hotel, we spent our first night in the house. the curtains i’d hung in our bedroom were temporary; i had grabbed them from the bedroom i’d shared with brandon, but they had been decorative since we already had blinds. there were two panels, but they required drapery hooks; i had always hung them from the hem along the bottom as a workaround, and i did this again in the new place. they barely covered each window. even though we were unwell, we made love with the lights on before collapsing into a fevered sleep. a few days later, i was surprised to see that our curtains were more sheer than we’d known—i could clearly see michael lying in bed from the street as i went to collect our mail. i guess we gave our new neighbors a good show that first night. 211015 what's it to you? 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