senses

I work a lot by myself.  Which is fine.  Of course I wish I knew what I was supposed to be doing.  My boss isn't the most aggressive worker, so I'm left to my own ideas.  Yesterday I was alone again.  And not knowing what else to do, and wanting to get further into my book, I decided to read on the upstairs portico.  It's a perfect place to see the valley (as well as the driveway in case someone decided to visit) and the breeze always comes though in the softest way.  I sat up there with my Pearl Buck book, Sons, and I realized that Pearl herself sat up here when she came back for a visit when she was 9.  I even tell people that in my tour.  "Her favorite place in the house was the upstairs portico where she would read Charles Dickens and eat grapes off the vine."  The moment I realized that I was reading Pearl Buck in a place where she herself loved to read, I got goosebumps.  The moment I realized that, I felt a stronger connection not only to Pearl but to the house itself.  Sure it sounds silly, but there's something about this house that puts me at ease.
I wouldn't say that I'm normally freaked out by old houses, but sometimes I find them eerie.  Who knows what may have happened in this house, or who died in that one.  But there's a calming sense I get when I walk through the door of the Birthplace.  Like I'm home.  Oddly enough, I actually greet the house when I walk in.  I always say hello or good morning.  And I say goodbye when I leave.  This house has become my West Virginian home more than the trailer ever will.    

Lately, I've been trying something new, where I try to use my sense of vision less.  I'm so dependent on my sight and I often abuse the fact that other senses are important.  I need my glasses or contacts to see anything ten feet away, so I've been naked-eying it at the trailer for the last couple days.  I feel my eyes are more relaxed and therefore the rest of me is at ease.  Today, as I was reading on the front porch of the Birthplace, I saw the rain clouds approaching the valley.  I paused my reading to take it all in.  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.  I heard the wind rush in the trees, the rain patter on the roof, the thunder rumble through the sky.  I felt the cool breeze on my skin, the rain splatter on my face.  I smelled the wonderful scent of fresh summer rain. Not trying to be all poetic and crap, but try it out.  You'll understand.
Last night I was invited to dinner at Sue and Jay's.  Their daughter was in town from DC and they also invited Ginger (the town librarian and local expert on Pearl) and her husband Bob.  Bob actually went to Georgia Tech and I think he's from Hiawassee, GA.   Shrimp burgers, homemade salsa, oreo pie.  Delicious.  And Ginger could talk about Pearl for days I'm sure.  She even interviewed her sister before she died.  So anytime I have any question or concern, she's definitely the person to turn to.  Not to mention she's funny and super friendly and a total hippie feminist.  So of course I love her.  I ended up staying over there for 5 and a half hours.  Yep.  That's what I did with my Friday night: hung out with a bunch of 60 year olds.  You definitely wanna come visit me now, don't cha?