*Lyrics stolen from Noah Kahan’s song Orbiter

It’s May, I turned 55, I think there is an AARP card in the pile of mail I have to sort through, and there is a half-gallon of chocolate ice cream missing somewhere in my house. Did the 9 year old eat it all and hide the evidence, or did the 2 year old stick it in his little shopping cart and deliver it to parts unknown? I have no idea. (It was partially consumed so I know I did not leave it at the grocery store or in my car, and I know it was returned to the freezer.) Also, two out of the three kids are sick (one with Flu A despite getting a flu shot) and also my husband is sick. I got Flu B awhile back and am really hoping I dodge this one, as I have very little PTO left for the rest of the year.

***

Even without most of the house sick, some birthdays hit harder than others and this year felt like speeding into a brick wall at 80 mph. Fifty five. I am fifty five? It cannot be possible. The Facebook messages felt more poignant this year for some reason. There was Greg, whom I’ve known since I was 4, and I’m pretty sure the last time I saw him was twenty years ago when he was an undertaker and we were at my Aunt Ruthie’s funeral trying to catch a cat that had trotted its way into the church. There were other people from grade school and high school and college and old jobs; my family members and my husbands family members. But I did not get my early morning Happy Birthday text from my Aunt Linda this year, because she passed away in March, and it all makes me wonder who won’t be here next year. And always, another year my father didn’t see.

***

One Saturday afternoon a few weeks ago, fresh off the 9-year old informing me I needed to listen to someone other than Taylor Swift, I found myself with about five loads of laundry to sort and fold. I plunked myself in front of the TV and with nothing else on, I watched the Noah Kahan documentary on Netflix. I’ve not really been into his music; I mean, I like what I have heard on the radio but I never dove in. After watching the documentary I dove down deep. Comically, I thought it would be good for me to find new music that didn’t remind me of anything or anyone but, ha, turns out anxiety disorders and angst-ridden relationships are practically universal themes. I saw an interview where Kahan said “If something really bad happens and its raining out, listen to this album”. Yesterday, in fact, it was pouring out and I had it cranked in the car all the way home.

I think my favorites right now are We Go Way Back, Doors, Orbiter and Lighthouse, the last two being bonus tracks, but I have this chorus from Dashboard stuck in my head because it has a great scream-in-your-car chorus:

Look at you go, crossin’ state lines with your shadow
Tryna run away
Change your zipcode
Turns out that you’re still an asshole

As someone who has moved countless times, this hit a little hard. We’ve been in our house almost 7 years and it’s the longest I have lived anywhere since leaving for college. And, I’m not going to lie, if it weren’t for a 3% mortgage rate and the fact that our little guy doesn’t have permanency, I’d probably be looking at real estate listings. (Or applying for Canadian citizenship, which I can apparently do since my great-grandmother was Canadian; one of my cousin’s has submitted her paperwork so I am waiting to see how that shakes out.). I keep asking my husband to find a job that will make him (and therefore, all of us) live in Europe somewhere, but so far that hasn’t panned out. I have at least 12 more years of working, and possibly 15 years more of parenting (I mean, that never ends, but you know what I mean), and especially after this past winter a change of scenery would be nice. In the meantime, I shall howl at the moon whenever possible.