Tuesday, June 28, 2011
February 4, 2011 – The Unthinkable Happened
February 4, 2011 – Unthinkable Happened
Much desired, though unthinkable, happened: my father has decided to sell the farm and move near Sao Paulo city.
I just can’t understand how a non-God sent heartbreak in my private life opened the doors to what, maybe not me, nor my brother, but my sister considers an answer to prayers that must be celebrating something like 20 years. She always mentioned to have my parents living near her so she could take care of them. But it was so remote and almost impossible, that I didn’t even consider it for prayers. I was trying to find a more painless solution made of human flesh and mind by suggesting to sell part of the farm, but keeping the house, and finding little solutions that were temporary ou doubtful such as finding a cheap caretaker or a free tenant.
The would-be cheap caretaker is only 15 and wouldn’t stay after I moved out – she is too young and shy to work by an old man; and the free tenant, in spite of confessing that it was a dream to have a free piece of land to grow vegetables, gently declined the offer. He is now more applied to find solution for us to stay in town. Volunteer work also came with volunteered suggestions. He suggested buying a piece of development, so we could build a business and a small house behind; he offered a house for sale somewhere in town; and he had more things to say as he mentioned have come to talk to us all afternoon. Fortunately, a couple of pastors were coming to pick up some donations and the conversation stopped there. I am just fearful as he said he would come back to finish the talk. What for? Just to mentioned that he is a pastor of a very tiny church he founded himself…They were the pastors that would come once in a while not to ask me out, but to ask me in – to the church services.
Alright, until the dreaded day, my father and I keep working hard to clean up the farm. He has been clearing the land covered with tall and lush weeds, selling all the rubbish he collected his lifetime, always mentioning what he is going to bring to a new home (a wheelbarrow, a sawmill, all the furniture, at least two refrigerators, all (my daughter’s stuffed animals) to my dismay. I tell him that there is no such a thing as space in city houses – at least, the size we can afford. He said he will take everything he can and leave them outside covered with plastic. Yes, I feel so positive about it. It is literately “trashy people’s house” – yellow trash.
I have been going through hundreds of letters and cards, old photos, notebooks, papers, memorabilias, old writings. I was able to get rid of many things – specially other people’s, except my writings when I was young and started my first productions. I got to keep the originals, even though, I refused to read them. Too painful to read low level literature.
I found notebooks of when I was my daughter’s age; my piano partitures I didn’t donate to a local library – I gotta keep just in case; items my mom bought for a trousseau and went unused or underappreciated (flurry blankets, old fashioned coverlets, rough sheets, bright colored towels, weird printed tablecloths, tiny table settings, cloth napkins, and other small ornamental useless pieces. But the hardest thing to donate is her crochet she made almost compulsively all her life. I can say that there are over a hundred kilos of worked material and other hundred of unused yarns. Several bags of fabric also… but these were mostly mine…projects I had and never accomplished. Even though we had four car trips full of descarted things, the house is still full.
My mother had also bought several (hundreds) of kitchen items, porcelan, crystal, plastic, glass, metal, you name it. There were boxed and put away in a large yellow cabinet in attempt to discourage stealing by a caretaker or any house worker. I don’t know if we were ever stolen, but for sure, mice did a good job in bulding a whole town, with a playground, hotel, restaurant, and all. I even found two dead mice and droppings scattered around. I put most things for donation. Before the pastors were able to come to pick it up, my cousins came by and helped themselves, thinking that “they were up for donation”, not that the donation had already a destination. I felt mad remembering that in any other move, I had to deal with vultures. Covetousness of the eyes…
I have a great sense of loss, and seen people not wanting to pay a fair price but coveting free things, don’t make any easier the process of moving. Specially for my father…He said that selling the farm is like losing a son or a piece of his heart. I sincerely hope that the lost piece can be refilled again. At least he told me he wants to buy a 42-inch TV, under my sister’s protests. I support him. Perhaps he can fill his hole with the internet (ironic speech).
My male cousin is helping us with the process. We couldn’t make without him, at least in this speed. He was adamant about selling the whole farm at once, and change the lifestyle drastically, with nothing leftover. Even though, I thought it to be a bit too rough on my father (and on me), he is right. I agreed that there must not be anything hanging to be solved later. The price is already set, and the first attempt is going to be on Monday, to our tenant.
Meanwhile, I search on the internet the real estate in our new chosen town. It is about 50 miles from Sao Paulo city, with mild climate, where Japanese community settled and developed horticulture. The home prices are high, and it seems there were no many homes for rent in downtown. I had looked into small rural properties “to live”, as they describe, in opposition to “for recreation” or “for farming”. I found pretty nices homes, with built-in bbq grill and swimming pools. The nicest ones are a bit out of our range. But I think this will be unpractical, as my parents would fall into the same problem as living on our farm – away from town facilities, and specially, a caretaker.
I confess that I am becoming so involved with the new town that I even told my daughter that we may not even move to the US. Who knows? I may find meaningful work, nice school for my daughter with lot of extra curricular activities, new places, things, and activities to explore, I may find a good yoga-pilates place, and so, so close to a metropole! I can even work there. The only thing is that…I would still be living with my parents. The positive side is that I would inherit the house that is getting up in value each year. Nice to think this way. Or…I can move nearby and have a place of my own! Who knows?
I told my daughter that God will direct us. This way, Boulder is becoming far…Specially after today that my ex-husband called worried about me landing somewhere without any support or money. He wants me to move near or with his brother (and his wife), who is not the father of my daughter to have this kind of obligation. I am becoming annoyed by their pressure to move to California instead of elsewhere. I may just stay in Brazil, specially now that my anger is subsiding and I don’t feel a real need to revenge myself of someone.
Oh, I feel like eating a tomato foccacia with onions…It’s 3:24 a.m.
Of course, no foccacia, and no even tomatoes…but I can still sabotage my hard lost kilos.