Selling Out
I reached under the bed to pull out the last toy, and placed it in the basket. I sat on the floor of our beach trailer, watching my daughter try to drag her suitcase down the hall. She explained to her dolls, "We're moving out now."
Part of the trip this weekend to the NC beach was to visit with my father before he started chemo, the other part was to sell my beach trailer. I wrote about buying it a few years ago here, and I've used it as a setting for many posts since then. I even chose the template for my blog based on my love of that little piece of land the sea leaves behind after each storm.
I hate to be a person so caught up in a place and a thing, but I am--in just this one instance. I wish we didn't have to sell, but with my father's illness, my mother's illness, my inability to get a job closer, I simply had to give in to my father's wishes. He wanted me to sell. As he begins cancer treatment, he wants to consolidate, tie up loose ends, make sure all of us are financially safe. He and my stepmother are selling the soundfront beach trailer they have owned for 20 years, so I wouldn't have them as neighbors anymore anyway--which was a big part of the attraction. Without them, the beach wouldn't be the same. Thus, we said goodbye to that part of the beach, that sea wall, that view. As time and family illnesses take their toll, our lives alter beyond our imaginings.
Being a member of the sandwich generation hurts financially, and now I know that I am more secure with that money in my bank account than invested in a trailer on a barrier island that could be easily washed away in the next hurricane. I know this is best, but I can't help but be sad. As a teacher, I know that I probably won't be able to afford a place so close to the water again. I don't make that kind of money, nor will I ever. It hurts because it is at the beach that I feel most like myself, where I am the most comfortable--and I am afraid I won't find that feeling anywhere else.
Sarah said to me as we shut the door, "We'll go to our new beach house now, right Mommy?' All I could say is "I hope so, honey."
3 comments:
Sandy--
Thanks for the comments. I appreciate the reading! I wonder if you've ever read any of Debra Tannen's work? Your post and my intial reaction to it are perfect examples of the differences she highlights in gendered communication. She says that--generally-- women simply need to express what is going wrong with them to feel better. On the other hand, men (which I assume you are since you have a wife--but I may be wrong) tend to want fix things, and offer solutions when they hear women express their concerns.
Here is an example from Tannen:
Advice vs. Understanding.
Eve had a benign lump removed from her breast. When she confided to her husband, Mark, that she was distressed because the stitches changed the contour of her breast, he answered, "You can always have plastic surgery."
This comment bothered her. "I'm sorry you don't like the way it looks," she protested. "But I'm not having any more surgery!"
Mark was hurt and puzzled. "I don't care about a scar," he replied. "It doesn't bother me at all."
"Then why are you telling me to have plastic surgery?" she asked.
"Because you were upset about the way it looks."
Eve felt like a heel. Mark had been wonderfully supportive throughout her surgery. How could she snap at him now?
The problem stemmed from a difference in approach. To many men a complaint is a challenge to come up with a solution. Mark thought he was reassuring Eve by telling her there was something she could do about her scar. But often women are looking for emotional support, not solutions.
When my mother tells my father she doesn't feel well, he invariably offers to take her to the doctor. Invariably, she is disappointed with his reaction. Like many men, he is focused on what he can do, whereas she wants sympathy.
So, my intial reaction to your post was confusion and a sense that I hadn't been heard, like these examples here. While I (being a woman) greatly appreciated the advice part of your comments, I liked the symapthy parts better. Then, I thought about Tannen's work, and realized that by giving me advice, you were offering me the best and kindest response. So, I thank you for the kind sentiment, and I appreciate your concern.
I am teary eyed here. When I first started reading your blog you had just written about buying the trailer... It must be even tougher because of Sarah. (BTW I have a 4 year old too, and a 2 y.o., both boys)
Amy, so sorry you have to sell the trailer and give up that bit of beach. I do hope you find your way back again before too long. And I'm happy to "see" you back here!
Post a Comment