alterations

"Why does everything have to change?!"

Jake couldn't find the apple cider vinegar and he was upset about it. It hadn't been put back in its usual spot in the cupboard. Why wasn't it where it was supposed to be? Why must everything, even our pantry, shift and change? WHY CAN'T THINGS REMAIN?

He may argue me on this one, but I don't think the issue was really the vinegar. Jake is changing jobs. My job situations are shifting. We're changing our approach to childcare. It is suddenly summer, the air is heavy, and Jake's MS doesn't appreciate the heat. Jake's sister is moving. My mom has a big birthday coming up. Alice is walking. Our friends lost their dad last month and our other friend's mom is in the ICU. Additionally, the evolution of Kimberly LaCroix has suddenly become enormously clear to Jake too. Almost daily, Jake wonders aloud at the changes...

Jake's first impression of me was "proper"- artsy and well-mannered. This impression was soon followed by the details that I wanted to move to NYC and pursue a cosmopolitan, fast-paced life, get my doctorate in theatre, perform, direct, travel the world. What a life! And maybe someday I'll live it. But, it has become abundantly clear that it is not the life I want right now. Academia and upheaval? They don't appeal to my current priorities- they haven't for a while. The last year has revealed alterations slowly stitched in my person through the last half decade that I've known Jake.

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I'm always thinking about what I'll get when I finally get a tattoo. I've settled on that now too, but when I studied abroad in 2007, I was considering the word "CHANGE." Then, I was considering it in Lugandan. I asked my home-stay mother what the Lugandan word for "change" was and she had no answer.

"You mean coins? Change in your pocket?"
"No," I explained, "change to who you are, like when you grow."

She proceeded to explain that people don't change. In Uganda, who we are is personified as a soul that resides outside our bodies. We spend our lives growing into this self- becoming who we are intended to be. You can't change who you are; you fulfill who you are.

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Last week we had a backyard fire and Katie E, age 7, had the realization that Alice's initials (A.L.L.) are the "same as yours Auntie!"

[general confusion]

"Katie, what do you think my name is?"
"Auntie Linda LaCroix."

I'll attest that there are heaps of complements worked up in this one and not be amiss that my niece had no recollection of my name- and that it absolutely did not ring any bells when we finally told her what it actually was. To Katie and Artie, my name has merged with who I am- their auntie, daughter to Linda, wife to Jake, and mom to A.L.L. (so of course our initials match!). They've been more often slipping and calling me mommy too. Something about being a mom has catapulted me into a different realm in their eyes/hearts.

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I dream of homesteading: goats, fruit trees, growing all our own food. I even read things about homeschooling. Homeschooling? You've got to be kidding me. Who is this meat-eating, gardening, person I've become? 

The same person who didn't eat meat and who wanted tight spaces and dirty city air. 

I'm the same person. And a different person too.