And which box has the fly swatter?

We left Dallas a week ago by car. The movers arrived on our doorstep to unload at 8 am sharp Thursday morning and the five man crew punted the last box from the truck at six pm. In the last four days (and nights) Wayne and I have unpacked, stacked, put away, nailed up and unfurled almost 27,000 pounds of “and why did we bring this?”

Before we left, the movers advised us to set aside the coffee maker, bed linens, towels and personal items we would need immediate access to in clearly marked boxes and to stash them in a piece of furniture we could easily spot amidst the hundreds of identical cardboard boxes. They never mentioned packing the fly swatters. Our glee at escaping a mosquito ridden existence has been tempered by a new plague of flies. I’ve been driven to the edge of sanity by these buzzing, tickling, loathsome creatures though my aim has steadily improved to the point I’m close to equalizing the household birth/death ratio.

Apart from that and my hour and a half detour back from my foray to the grocery store which found me halfway to Iowa, we’ve had a lovely arrival. Neighbors have had us to dinner, brought us fresh baked scones and gifted us with coffee and scented candles. Saturday, former fellow Houstonions Anthony and Dyan (who introduced us to Columbia) dropped in with hot food, just ahead of a dramatic thunderstorm. We sat all cozy in the screened in porch, having supper and watching the storm sway huge trees while grape sized hail pinged off the deck like Jiffypop. Suddenly, surrounded by our friends and safe in our sheltered perch, we began to feel at home.

Yesterday, Ben, another good friend from Houston, flew in to help with some handymanning—our first overnight guest. Our girls will arrive tomorrow. I woke up this morning, after the closest I’ve come so far to a night’s sleep, startled by the quiet. I had a quick shiver of panic. We are far away. Ben will leave. There is no rumble of traffic outside, no city lights, no grocery store or coffee shop around the corner. This is not a camping trip where we’ll pack up our tents and head back to the “real world” after a refreshing break from urban hubbub. This is now our real world—I’ve bought if off the rack but have yet to try it on to see how well it fits.