The Tornados That Brought Us to Hickory Hill

We are in our new house now. Our new house. La nuova casa, I keep telling Oliver, because I almost exclusively speak Italian to Oliver. We left ‘la vecchia casa’ and now we’re in ‘la nuova casa’, I tell him, over and over and over again.

Our new house is not a stand-alone house, and Nic is somewhat bothered by that. People love stand-alone homes — they love property and privacy and their names on things. But I love the division of property. And I privacy only some of the time. I revel in the gain you gain from sharing homes and lives and time with others. I learned this because I kept running from my own home when I was young, so I learned it as a result of some kind of lack, but all it did was GIVE BACK AND GIVE BACK.

A tornado dropped us here. It started in the cells of a man across the street from us — a neighbor that honestly lost his mind — due to drug use, perhaps combined with some other issues. As his behavior spiraled, our lives became intertwined in only the worst of ways. Fear became the most common feeling I had at home. So we started thinking. Maybe we should move? Then we started looking. We talked about Iowa City. How much we would love to live in the same city as Hickory Hill.

When I first moved to Iowa, it was to Iowa City, and it was almost 4 years ago exactly.

I came here to stay with a friend — and much to my surprise, I immediately felt a sense that I was home. (I was only supposed to be here for a couple months; I had plans to head off to another big city and to “figure out how to become a writer.”)

I was staying in Emily and John’s house with their two little boys. Emily was a friend from college. I was living amongst her family — and I kept staring at it, wide-eyed, like a little girl. Here are happy people. In a stand-alone house. With CHILDREN. How weird. I had been apartment-jumping and love-avoiding and I felt as far away from their state of being as I could have. Yet: I liked seeing it. It stirred something up within me. A tiny tornado of curiosity.

Emily lived right near a park that was essentially tons of semi-manicured woods: Hickory Hill.

I started walking every day in Hickory Hill. I filled me in ways I hadn’t been filled since I was a girl. I came from the woods. They have always been where I have found the most peace. Amongst the trees, amongst the green.

Then Nic and I fell in love there.

And I think we all know how that story went. Nic and I GOT MARRIED (in Hickory Hill) AND BOUGHT A HOUSE (forty-five minutes from Iowa City/Hickory Hill) AND HAD A CHILD.

And just like that: my plan to leave Iowa, my plan to stay single and childless — my life plans were obliterated.

(and that’s okay.)

**

Life kept spinning.

That child we had needed a doctor, and Emily had a sister who was a doctor (and a friend), and so we took our little baby to her after he came into the world. She measured him time and again, and calmed my fears when I had them.

And we kept living in Marion,  but visiting Emily and her sister in Iowa City, and taking occasional walks with Oliver and Béla in Hickory Hill.

Then our neighbor erupted and we started thinking it was time to leave our home, and maybe if we were lucky, we could get closer to that park…maybe we could figure out someplace nearby. A twenty-minute drive would be nicer than a forty-five.

Then the sister bought a house. With a mother-in-law apartment in the bottom of it. A home, underneath a home, with a separate entrance and a separate outdoor space, yet tied together with walls. Our ceilings are quite literally their floors. She has two children, too, and so, all together, we have three — Oliver has two brother figures built into the foundation.

And — well, the location could not be better.

Because.

THE BACKYARD IS HICKORY HILL. 

**

We moved in last weekend, and boxes are strewn about still. It looks wild in here.

But this is merely the calm after the storm. This is the calm after all of the storms.


 

if you want to page back through my blog, you can read the blog post I wrote when I first moved here — Iowa 75% Vowels, 100% Awesome  — and the one I wrote when I finally admitted I was in love with Nic — Fuck It; I’m In Love. I have no idea how to link them here bc I am not technologically advanced enough to even link my own blog to my own blog wtf

 

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