Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 4 Comments

Fresh Perspective

It’s been one week of living in our new home. This is the ‘dream house’ I saw seven years ago, and have been holding as vision in my heart ever since. Though it’s still settling in as a true reality, yes, I am actually dwelling within these walls now.

Having been built about 30 years ago, there are layers of lives that have passed through the rooms of this house. We are slowly clearing cobwebs and cleaning cupboards, as we get to know the personality of this beautiful abode that has welcomed us to nest here.

Though some may argue that tasks like getting your kitchen in working order may rank  a higher priority, cleaning the windows seemed an even worthier starting point. Jeb and the Bohemian worked in tandem, washing both sides.

Gotta love a clear perspective…

2014-02-08_windows

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 4 Comments

Puppy Love

I’ve been up since 2:41am, but all is well.

In dreamland, the Bohemian and I were driving through a maze of streets in Boston, trying to employ Google maps with my iPhone. I was all thumbs, pushing the wrong button on the screen and having to reload pages that were too large to read, while the Bohemian needed to know in that moment – take a left or right?

I don’t think it’s navigation that is keeping me awake. Well, in a way. These days it’s all about our pending move to a new house, a process that is about 3/4 of the way complete, but a constant in the back of my mind.

Another constant, (2:41am, no problem) is our trusty and loving companion, Moodha.

When we moved into our present sub-let situation, the house came with a dog, which has been a wonderful trial-run for our family which is not quite yet ready to commit to a canine. I haven’t written much about Moodha in the seven months we’ve lived here, but I think it’s mostly due to the fact that he’s consistently been a shadow of a presence, simple and true, by our side, but with little to-do.

Right now, as I type in this low-lit room, he’s curled up at my feet, as usual. He knows my morning routine. The familiar sounds of a spoon removed from the drawer. The rattle of the refrigerator door opening as I retrieve the milk. And I know the pavlovian jangle of his collar, rattling a chime that signals love embodied in a fur coat is shaking itself awake, and will be joining me at my chair with a yawn.

There are many things to look forward to as the Bohemian, Jeb and I begin building a foundation in our new abode (official move-in date: February 1). I’ve been crossing off my task list and looking ahead with inspiration. But there is also much to be grateful for in what this temporary dwelling has offered us, providing us with much more than basic shelter.

Ahh…puppy love…

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We’re only moving up the road, and Moodha’s true caretaker is a good friend. We know this isn’t the last time we’ll see our furry friend. But it won’t be too many more pre-dawn mornings that he and I will share a cup of coffee and some writing time together.

It’s been said that home is where the heart is, and most definitely, Moodha will always have a home in our hearts.

Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer · 2 Comments

Tuning to Here

Ben Harper asks me to sit beside him onstage at an outdoor concert. I hold the guitar on my lap while he’s got the neck, tuning and plucking strings like a master.

He tells the audience that the first time he met me was at one of his shows, where I was backstage and he was just arriving.

He explains that he was a bit late, I had noticed the time, and my first words to him upon meeting were, “You’re not here yet.”

He laughs in his recounting, keeps sounding stings while looking at me, and says, “So I thought to myself, ‘well, then, I want to get here.'”

Morphing, as dreams do, into mirage-like segues that fade one into the next, Ben Harper leaves the stage into the crowd and I’m left to sit with his guitar.

And then, my husband appears offering a bouquet of flowers. Gifting them for “Jessica” not for “my wife.” Which is somehow understood by both of us that sometimes the title matters. Newlyweds may enjoy trying new ones on, but it’s important to remember the first name of your spouse.

As if on cue, just this rousing side of dreamland, my son garbles “Jessica” (not “Mom”) in a sleepy call from his bedroom.

In the waking world I may be an artist still tuning the instrument, looking toward the masters of the craft.

I am a wife. A mother. Both of these, still learning.

And time, it’s an illusion, fooling, but ever-present.

Jessica is still not fully here yet. But trying to tune in.

photo courtesy of Evan Mitchell
photo courtesy of Evan Mitchell