A Frosting in the Northeast

I wrote and posted this post on In the Warm Hold last night and then it occoured to me that it really belonged here as well. As I've said many times, I try not to cross post too much because what's the point then? But I started this post thinking it'd be a picture post for the regular blog and it spiraled into a bunch of my thoughts on staying and leaving and beauty and difficulty, which is the kind of post I like to share in this space. It actually occurred to me awhile back that there are a handful of post here that I want there as well and a handful there that I want here, so I'll be doing a little reposting. More on that later, though...
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We got our first real, big snow a few weeks back. They were predicting we'd get a lot more and people were kind of going crazy worrying about the "historic blizzard". Well, mostly Minnie. I got this frantic email from her about it, warning us to stock up and prepare for the electricity to go out (not really a concern in our massive complex). Between ISIS, the "riots" Fox News convinced them have been happening here for the last four months, and this I'm almost sure I'm going to come home to a couple of patients with massive stomach ulcers. [Mick's comfort item is his Pepto bottle, FYI.]

But also I actually saw someone comment on a friend's Instagram that she was in the Trader Joe's in Brooklyn and there was a woman griping about them being out of goat's milk and organic kale. Because those are necessities in a weather emergency right? If you're a North Brooklyn hipster, they sure are. So the fear was real. Even for the Yankees.

Anyway, I was so excited Peyton had the day off. It was a real experience. We thought we'd head over to an adjoining neighborhood to catch some friends sledding, but we realized quickly that was not happening (some areas hadn't been plowed yet). So we just walked to our little neighborhood park. We did spot a bus with chains all around its tires, which I thought was interesting. So much I didn't even think about before living here.

The snow at the park was basically untouched. It was soft and fluffy and perfect. Cold, but as perfect as six inches of frozen matter can be. There's still a good bit of snow on the ground, but these days it's brown and hard as a rock.

I wonder if when we get home, I'll remember the snow as a freezing cotton ball of beauty or as my rock hard nemesis- a potential danger at worst, an annoyance at best. I sort of hope it remains the former in my memory, although that might bring some heartache so maybe it's best if I remember the most of the time (hard, brown) reality. I don't know, even if the snow remains pure and perfect in my reflections, I feel confident the hardships of Winter are etched on my memory. It is clear to me that my body wasn't made for this climate and this Winter I've wondered if my soul maybe wasn't either.

Last Winter I took to it so easily. I was talking with Minnie about why and I think a lot of it was knowing that a good bit of Winter had already passed when we moved. And knowing how much fun we'd have in the warmth if we were having that much fun in the cold.

But I also think....it was God's grace. I have a friend and it's almost a running joke now how much I've been attributing to the Lord's grace lately. I think, for some reason, it's just become much more evident to me and I see Him in the details more. And as I look back on those early days here, equally cold if not colder than the days I've been surviving lately, I know it was. Because my first six weeks here had been this tough and this bitter and this cold? If they had left me so physically dry and so emotionally isolated? I don't know that I ever would have let my heart love this place like it did.

But here I am. Loving the place to the point of grieving our departure in a pretty intense way already. Loving it so much that I often tear up thinking back over our adventures here. Loving it in spite of the chaffing lonely parts and loving it because of the soothing words and friendly faces that ease that pain and discomfort. 

I know I'll remember the hard things about this journey and the beautiful ones. I'll likely remember the snow both on the days we played in it, fresh fallen and pure and the days I shuffled around it, hard and ugly and a hazard particularly for my small people.

I'll remember Brooklyn as a difficult dirty place to live and also as the setting of one of the most incredibly beautiful adventures of my adult life. I'm thankful for both, actually, because both have transformed me and I know I'll never be the same. And I'll treasure the memories of both in my heart.

Love and Barbecue (and Farm Animals and Block Parties)

If you saw my post yesterday, you know that this August saw me reflecting a lot on last August, specifically mine and Peyton's trip to the city. Over the Summer I had several special moments where we visited places that we had visited on that trip or experienced things we'd experienced on the trip and it just stirred up a lot of emotion. We've done plenty of things here that we also did on the trip- Central library, the Brooklyn Flea, the farmer's market. None of it has seemed terribly special, so I'm not sure why these things did. Maybe it's just because I was more focused on it, being that our trip was exactly a year ago. Maybe I've been extra sentimental about the city lately, realizing more fully has short our time here really will be. Or maybe these just really were very special memories from last year and now I've created new special ones this year. 

Nearly a year ago- last August- Peyton and I sat at these outdoor tables under the sign and looked out, a bit enchanted, at the area of sectioned off street with tables and trees; the gorgeous architecture; and the lively and charming people who passed by. That day, we had taken our first breaths in Kings County. We had been to the Brooklyn Flea and the Farmers' Market at Fort Greene Park. We tentatively said we very much loved it. And little did we know, it was the slow beginning of giving our hearts to a place. It was good to be back there several weeks ago, sitting in the street and eating BBQ, with the other two people I love most in the world.

I mentioned this in my post yesterday, but our co-op has a block party each Summer and it's one of the things that sold us on the neighborhood. Of course we had no idea we'd actually wind up living in the co-op and actually participating in the thing. It was just a good taste of the dynamic of the neighborhood. Well, this year's rolled around and it was great to be part of the party instead of just an observer. It reminded me of all the things I love about Clinton Hill- its diversity, its laid back vibe, its lack of pretension, and it exuberance. 

When we were here looking at neighborhoods during the trip, I teared up little when we saw this playground because I knew Graves would love the farm theme. It took us this long to get back there, but some things haven't changed a bit with sweet Bud. 

It's so incredible to see these things from the perspective I have now! 

A Big Collection of Flashbacks: New Reflections on Memories from Our Trip Last August

I'm a huge fan of looking back over old pictures, old tweets, old blog posts. Back in the day before there was Timehop, I'd do it manually from time to time just for my own enjoyment. I'd go back and look at what I blogged about on this day to years ago or what I tweeted or whatever. Obviously, Timehop simplified things (if you don't know about it, it's a service that compiles your records from various social media sites and then presents you with all that happened on those sites on that specific day over the past few years). 

Well, last month I experienced a first with Timehop. That is, I was consciously anticipating and looking forward to a specific week. I was looking forward to seeing all my old statuses from mine and Peyton's exploratory trip to New York last August to try to zero in on a neighborhood. 

And I was right, it was so much fun to look back. Here are just a few of my favorites! 

As I said, I had been anticipating this week in Timehop for awhile. Last year at this time, we were enjoying our first day of a search which would determine which New York neighborhood we'd call home for a season of our lives. That trip was the first real indication I could do just that- call this place home. A little teary looking back.

 This was a block party we stumbled up on put by the co-op we now live in. The music was SUPER loud and we totally thought the co-op was the projects. In other words, we were terrified. But we met some of the sweetest families and it was a distinct event that solidified our love for Clinton Hill. Peyton took off the following Saturday this year specifically for the party. 

Actually, it probably would have been a fine place to live. But we were naive and fearful. Which is what sometimes happens when you're a tiny, very privileged white girl from the Mississippi suburbs whose body has been trained to tense up when she walks down a block where ninety five percent of the people look different from her. I'm so glad I'll never be her again.

There are some things about the city that I doubt will ever change- I still don't trust Graves on a platform without a stroller, a carrier, or an extra parent. And Times Square still gives me a headache and makes me feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin.

...and tree lined Brooklyn blocks still make me smile and slow my pace a bit.

The initial caption read: "He told me that when he went exploring by himself last night he put $20 between a homeless couple who were asleep and snuggling at the subway stop because he just thought they were so sweet. I cried. I hope I'm tough enough for this city (and good enough for this man)." These days, Peyton just packs extra snacks for the homeless or gives them groceries he's just bought for himself/us. These days I've learned that living here isn't so much about being tough, really. I'm glad I'm tender because I think I'm rewarded for it by seeing things here that sometimes other people don't. It takes a lot out of me to process some of the things I've seen here, but it's overwhelmingly worth it. I don't know that I'm always good enough for Peyton. I'm sure I'm not, really. More infrequently probably, he isn't good enough for me. That's everyone everywhere, though. I'm glad for forgiveness and commitment, to be sure. And really, we've been better to each other this year than any other our marriage has seen. 

It was surreal to look back on these little snapshots of a one week adventure and see what insight I had into them after a seven month adventure. Clearly, a lot has changed. Some things have remained the same. That trip was so special and it was just a glimpse into our life here. I'm thankful for both- the initial experiences as a visitor in the city and the experiences where I've become, in some ways, a part of it. More importantly, the experiences where it's become a part of me. Because those will last forever in my heart (and most likely on Timehop as well, Lord willing).