Home Sweet Home

Moving out and moving on...

I had not looked at my iPad since it happened. The tabs from before are still open. Audrina Partridge. I googled her after watching The Hills out of nostalgia and remembered she had been one of the targets of the bling ring. “Fasole uscate”. Dried beans. I don’t remember what type of beans I was looking for. For the dog stews, I have been experimenting with? For a chickpea hummus alternative? Who knows. “Orez bio”, yes it was for the dog stews, because I know I was looking into bulk buying organic brown rice for that.

“Where to plant strawberries”. This one hurts the most. Before it happened, I had organised my seed boxes by month. I had planned the garden. Started working on clearing all the stones and making raised beds from all the old wood lying around. Looked on Pinterest for ideas for bean and pumpkin trellises. Cut 5-liter water bottles in threes and took the middle part out to make tiny greenhouses. I made shelves in the window to put them on, and went out with my wheelbarrow to get mulch from the spot where the lumberjacks cut wood every year.

I own 1600m2 of land on the edge of a forest in one of the most beautiful regions in Transylvania. But there will be no beginning of a food forest garden. There will be an ending instead. The end of my time here. I have my reasons, ample of them, but yesterday the most obvious one burst out of my brain like a phoenix rising from the ashes. “If I have to convince myself to stay, then I should probably not be here in the first place.” It reminded me of an Instagram post I saw years ago: “If it is not HELL YEAH then it is FUCK NO”.

Can life be that simple? I even contemplated making pro and con lists until the brain burst made it clear that this would be futile. Everyone says you can’t make decisions in the middle of trauma. It is too drama-fuelled, too emotion-led. Take a breather. Let the dust settle. Gather yourself first. I do feel like I have blown up into a billion pieces, tiny particles floating in the air. Just as I thought about putting down some roots, everything is up in the air again. Crap.

In less than a year I have buried six animals in my garden. And although I would love to stay on indefinitely as the guardian of this little pet cemetery, surround each grave with flowers, I can’t. I feel it in my bones, that feel frozen to the core.

I know from experience that things I have to talk myself into or be talked into, rarely lead anywhere good. For now, I am staying put and staying quiet, apart from putting my feelers out for suitable rental accommodation with a safe space for my remaining beasties. I shovel gravel and clear the yard to take decent photos to sell my house. I fix my neighbour’s fence. I wrap the traditional “martisori”, the little trinkets for March. Mostly I spent time with the four puppies, who cry or run riot when left alone too long now their mother is gone.

Mami passed away. It was a chosen moment, after long deliberation with the vet who came out after my desperate plea for help. When I was thirteen, I had a pet rabbit called Joris. This jet-black French droopy-eared creature was my everything. After a few years of happily frolicking around he developed wild growth of his jawbone. The vet said put him down once he stops eating. My grandfather said, don’t be selfish and put him down now. By the time he refuses to eat, he will be in pain. My brother took him to the vet, as I couldn’t. There should still be a photo of me holding him for the last time, somewhere. My last moment with Mami is me holding her hand and whispering, thank you, I love you, always. 

Just before Mami, my cat Lollipop died. I can’t share the details, it is too gruesome and too raw and whenever I think of it I throw up. My PTSD which had finally subsided is back in full force. I shiver and sweat, my body feels rock solid (is this where the word “petrified” comes from? How intense fear turns you into stone?), I can’t eat, I can’t sleep and all sounds and sudden movements make my skin crawl. I need time.

I have googled the five stages of grief countless times in my life. So, that I won’t be doing now. I will just let myself be all over the place for a while. Until I do find our home.