Filed Under:Blog, country living, cows, Featured Post, moving, The Space Between
Soul-Searching, Five Years On
Posted By: Susan Rooke
Posted on: September 28, 2017 10:50 AM
Five years ago at the beginning of this month, Glen and I put our Austin house on the market for the first time, getting serious about our dream of moving to the country. Six months later, after a hard-fought contract fell through, we took the next six months off to reclaim some sanity. Being forced to maintain constant household readiness and submit to the whims of looky-loos with no intention to buy was draining. And humbling. “I don’t like being able to see the kitchen when I walk in the front door,” sniffed one woman. Well honey, you really wouldn’t like the house I have now.
Standing in the kitchen. Hey, whaddaya know? There’s the front door. And Lucy.
So after a breather, we put the house on the market a second time. At last, after another sixteen months, we were free. Good-bye City, Hello Country.
But was it really our dream? If you’d asked me thirty-five years ago, I’d have said, “It may be Glen’s, but it’s sure not mine!” At that point, we weren’t married yet. Thirty-five years ago, I was all about dieting into designer jeans (remember those? Charlotte Fords were my favorite), experimenting with new eye makeup and going weekly to the late, great Steamboat, a Sixth Street Austin music venue, to see the Austin All Stars play. Oh—and straightening . . . every . . . last . . . bit of curl out of my hair, at temperatures that could fry catfish. I was so successful that, until I gave up flat ironing thirteen years ago, Glen had no idea I had curly hair. And just how curly. (To be honest, I was a little surprised too.) Now he claims I married him under false pretenses. He probably would have a case against me for fraud.
After we married, we did move to the country. Still not my dream, but I would have followed him anywhere. Our first house together was east of Austin in a tiny farming community. (That was where the FBI came knocking at our front door one day, asking probing questions about one of the neighbors.) Over the three years we lived there, we managed to keep up a semblance of city life, driving to Austin daily for all errands and fun excursions. We were much younger then. We could maintain the pace. When we moved back into Austin again, though, we chose an area removed from the city’s heart, which was fast becoming a hotbed attracting throngs of residents. And over time, we found ourselves moving farther and farther into the outskirts. Turns out it was just one short step from that to owning cows.
Some people will always thrive on the lively turmoil of city dwelling. Glen, on the other hand, came to need the serenity of quieter surroundings, with great dollops of nature to nourish his soul. It came as a surprise when I found I needed these things too.
Now we have a place with great neighbors, who live more than fifteen yards away. We can watch a bald eagle standing tall in a treetop as it observes its youngster’s awkward swoops and glides. Or note the predictable daily habits of black cattle who retreat beneath the shade trees each morning, then emerge to bathe in the stock tanks each afternoon. The simplicity of such routines brings focus to our minds, as well as a measure of comfort and reassurance. And a sense, however illusory, that all will continue just the same when we’re gone.
This time, unlike thirty-five years ago, we share the same dream. Thank heavens. After too much noise for too many years, I think I needed the emptiness of days spent watching the changeable, eloquent face of the sky.
Glen asks me every week if I’m happy here. I try to reassure him, but he still remembers the girl with the straight hair who wanted to go out and have fun. I remember her too. She would have thought this place was lovely, but living here would have been hard for her. I’m not that girl anymore, Glen. I have to tell you, though, even then, it was just as it is now. All I really ever need for happiness is to be with you.
However. I’m obligated to point out that it wasn’t just me who wasn’t being entirely honest when we married.
I only surprised you with curly hair. You surprised me with . . . cows.
A huge thank-you to everyone who’s been reading The Space Between! If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review on Amazon!
I’m glad you have the cows and open places I have enjoyed them watching me curiously. I am in hopes that the open places, spiders and calmness that is felt here will allow you to finish book 2 because I am ready for more of your story. I’m glad you found Glen as I cannot picture him without you
Oh, Denise, thank you for everything! Most of all, for your loving, supportive presence and just being you! Truthfully, I cannot imagine any of us without each other. And by gosh, Book 2 is coming. In a FAR shorter time than Book 1!
It’s been a hell of ride and would not a change thing. Even your hair. I love you baby. It’s a nice place to come home to for sure, you have made my dream come true. Glen
Thank you, darling! I love you too. And would not change one thing either. Even your cows. What a wild ride it’s been!
You two are the sappiest couple I know. And cows, schmows, what’s with this nature gig anyway? The one thing I can truly appreciate is all that energy devoted to making curly hair straight. My Sue does the same thing, and what a shame. Her flouncy curls would stir any man’s heart. Seriously, your story underscores the fact that throughout life we do change. The thing is that when change moves people closer together, it can be wonderful thing. From this vantage point, it appears you and Glen have been on a long “moving together” trajectory for a long time now. It is beautiful to behold, right down to the cows. Love you both, John
Oh, John, love to you too! I read your comment to Glen, and he LOVED it. Can’t wait to see both you and Sue tomorrow night at the book party!
Awwww! True love 35 years later. It gives me hope.
Yes, there is always hope! (Not to be a sap about it. ;-))
Happy you’re enjoying life. You both are truly blessed. Share your blessings with a smile and soft hello to all you meet.
We really ARE blessed, and give thanks for that every day!
Seriously? No throwback picture of you with your straightened hair? I feel cheated! 🙂 Loved the rest of the post though.
Oh, shoot, never even thought about it! I don’t know if I could even find one at this late date. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!) Thank you, Carie! And it was so good to see y’all last night! <3
Susan, you and Glen are amazing, meant for each other in a deeper sense of life! Your 35 years of togetherness seem adventurous and happy. Surely both of you are the first one to watch glorious sunrise and romantic sunset with your healthy cows, cats and dogs away from a busy city life. Enjoy Every moment of your life.
Thanks for your novel and a diary. I am back from my trip and soon will start reading it.
Love to both Glen and you.
Shubh
Thank you so much, Shubh! Your good wishes for us mean the world to me. You are so very welcome for the diary, and it thrills me to know that you will soon be reading the book.
Much love to you,
Susan
Susan,
I am firm believer that we all grow in different ways, Mentally, Spiritually, emotionally.
Sometimes we need look 👀 outside the box ( or our surroundings) we might might find crazy long cruly hair that loved to throw parties. Now, enjoys the quieter life with her four legged fur babies and Glen.
Personally, I can’t wait to do the very samething. I want you come see us. Please bring coffee ice cream 🍦 lol 😂.
Btw: Merry Christmas
Thank you, Michelle, Merry Christmas to you too!
I agree, Michelle, and it’s always interesting, and maybe a bit disconcerting, to observe how that growth changes us over the years.
We will come see y’all, for sure! And I bet Glen can rustle up some dry ice so the coffee ice cream can make the trip! ^_~