This post is about an apartment too, but not a two bedroom to be shared with a mutual friend.
We were supposed to get a 2 bedroom apartment. One bedroom for a mutual friend, and one bedroom for me a Sarah. Well it turns out that our mutual friend was not ready to leave home. So despite the entire process of the application, background and credit checks, money to hold the apartment, it turns out that we didn't take the apartment......so we started all over again, this time just us two.
I almost cannot believe we'll be moving in next weekend. It's crazy to think that in a week we will be moving into our very own place, just the two of us. It's exciting, and I have the feeling she is a bit nervous. But a good kind of nervous, like a little kid about to jump into a pool even though they can see Daddy is right there to catch them - you know you'll be fine, but you still have to make the jump.
It's in a very Orthodox neighborhood, which is going to be interesting but we're used to driving out on the weekends anyway, and at least it's quiet. The building looks like shit from the outside, really it does, but the whole inside has been gutted and redone, repainted with moldings everywhere and it's actually really nice.
We've both already started packing this past week so there really isn't that much left. This is going to be amazing.
* * *
Thanksgiving was two days ago, and almost all of my family refuses to accept the fact of what I'm doing. Or they just go stoic about it and sweep it under the rug. Except for a few people, and definitely some more than the others. My uncle John has been calling me "A" as best he can, which is his way of trying, and has told me that whatever floats any one's boat is fine with him as long as you're a decent and nice person you're good with him. Aunt Laura and Chuck love me to death no matter what and have been the only ones really communicating with me about all of this, asking questions, making fun of my voice dropping and then hugging the shit out of me and I'm not sure she'll ever stop pinching my cheeks. And then there's cousin Mikey. Who at Nana's was deliberately saying "Aidan" out loud at almost everything, and then smiling wide. We were outside together for a minute away from everyone and he asked why he was the only one doing it, and seemed surprised that even my parents weren't following suit. I told him he was the only one who was actually calling me "Aidan" in the family and again he was surprised. It's nice to know that he really has my back, completely. He's not half-assing it like the rest of my family, he is in this.
Believe me I know I have it better than most at this point with family tolerance, and I'm thankful that at least I'm still in my house and accepted by my family at all, but it's interesting to see who will conform and who will sweep it under the rug. I have hope for my generation. That us as well as our children will be more tolerant, and accepting - that we won't look at someone and judge them for what they look like, or if they have trouble hiding their tits but they're growing a beard, or a deep voice and shaved legs and arms, or even just floating in the middle ground of androgyny - which is pretty hot, to be honest. =P
Anyway, the point is, everything is going to be okay....eventually.
I'm hoping time will heal most wounds, and all of us can get the hell on with our lives as a family like we're supposed to. I'm also hoping that this apartment and some space away from my immediate family will help us all move forward in this process without feeling smothered by one another.
But, one can only hope, right?