Recently I've been struggling with some bitterness towards the last person I ever thought I would be bitter towards: my grandmother. Isn't it funny how things can change so fast? The reason for my bitterness is my family's move back into Albuquerque. Now to most people that probably doesn't seem like that big of a deal, but for me, it's been pretty huge. I'm a country girl at heart, not a city girl.
The song Cowboy Take Me Away by the Dixie Chicks describes me perfectly:
"I wanna touch the earth
I wanna break it in my hands
I wanna grow something
Wild and unruly
I wanna sleep on the hard ground
In the comfort of your arms
On a pillow of blue bonnets
In a blanket made of stars
..............
I wanna walk and not run
I wanna skip and not fall
I wanna look at the horizon
And not see a building standing tall
I wanna be the only one
For miles and miles..."
That describes what I want and miss so perfectly.
My family lived out in the East Mountains near Edgewood for nearly 9 years. We built the house we lived in exactly the way we wanted it. Many of my favorite memories include that house and various things that happened in it or somewhere in the East Mountains. It was my home.
My bitterness towards my grandmother began when she and my grandfather decided that they would come live with my family like we'd been asking them to for ages. My family was happy in Edgewood, but my grandmother refused to live out there, complaining about the drive, the wind, and just about anything else there was to complain about. Even living in Tijeras or Carnuel was farther out than she wanted. She wanted to live in Albuquerque. I had known that our house was too small for all of us to live in, but I had been certain that we would find another house somewhere in the East Mountains.
My grandmother's determination to live in Albuquerque seemed so selfish to me! Yet, wasn't I being selfish by making my own demands? The first house we looked at was the house that my family determined to buy. I remember how much I hated that house, but still nodding and smiling and saying that it would be wonderful. I hurried outside and stood crying by the car. The idea of moving was just too painful. My other memory of that day was my grandfather reaching his hand back to me as we drove away and taking mine and telling me it was going to all be okay. It was one of the few times he did something like that.
Then suddenly, everything changed at once. My grandfather passed away and the deal on the house fell through. That was the most painful time of my life. Yet, still, as the deal on the house feel through, I began to hope again that perhaps without all the various doctor appointments to worry about, my grandmother would be more open to living somewhere in the mountains. I was wrong. Still determined to live in Albuquerque, we found another house, the one we're living in now.
It's a nice house overall. A bit old and in need of some repairs, but it is pretty nice. Still, my bitterness towards my grandmother increased as I cried myself to sleep the first night here. It also increased as I was forced to leave my chickens and rooster that I had raised myself with the inexperienced people who bought our house. And it rose still more as I watched my dogs, who had had a massive backyard in Edgewood now forced to live in a very small area, whimper and whine as they panicked at being in such tight quarters. I also blamed my grandmother for the constant fear that one of them might get out and run out onto Osuna and get hit by a car or something.
Thinking and dwelling on all these things made me very bitter and angry. But I've been working at seeing it all in a new light. The commute for my parents and myself to work, is much shorter. Less money is spent on gas. Stores are closer. In many ways, in practical ways, it is better. And I have to remind myself of that. Being in Albuquerque is much easier for my grandmother. She doesn't have to worry about the wind almost knocking her over anymore. She doesn't have to deal with the chill she used to feel out in Edgewood. It's focusing on things like that, the things that have made my family's life better and easier that is helping me get over my bitterness. And, of course, Jesus is always there to help as well and to give me strength. Am I ever going to really be able to call this place home? I don't know. Edgewood is still my true home and I think it always will be with it's blue skies, gorgeous sunrises and sunsets, wide open spaces, and blanket of stars. But for now, I will be content with where I am at and be thankful for the opportunities I have to still drive out to Edgewood. To home.
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