People Who Live on Hills
So, a belated happy Thanksgiving to everyone! I’m back in Manhattan, where you can hear traffic from absolutely anywhere, and people wearing frighteningly stained blankets walk alongside people wearing Bergdorf Goodman, and I live in a little pale yellow apartment with Bear, a lot of diet soda, the cookies he always brings me, and a toilet that is happy to run for hours.
We spent a week in California, by the bay. Is it The Bay? It sounds that way when people say it. By the bay, where you can look into the distance and see more than five hills at once, and the eucalyptus trees hang their bark in dramatic, tired strips, and homes that belong to people who are now my family nestle against hard inclines. I didn’t notice any running toilets. Or at least, they politely stopped after an appropriate amount of time.
I suddenly have a much bigger family, and suddenly I was eating turkey with them. And sitting on their couches, and laughing at their jokes, and opening their refrigerators without asking. When I said goodbye to Bear’s grandmother, at the end of the visit, I said, “Love you,” without even thinking about it. She is in her nineties. She went to UC Berkeley for botany at a time when she wasn’t allowed to do field work because it would be “too distracting for the men.” When she found out that Bear and I met online, she thought that was the greatest thing ever. She liked Obama before anyone else knew he existed. She seems to think I’m really funny. Who wouldn’t want her to be their grandmother?
I kept looking at these people, and not feeling very strange about being with them. And then realizing that they were mine, and feeling vaguely surprised and uncertain about how to proceed. Do I hug them more? How much can I joke around? How much can I whine when I’m feeling whiny? Not much, I thought. Whining is probably always a bad idea. And I should try to break the habit, even when I’m around my own parents. How carsick is it acceptable for me to become on highway 1? How often am I allowed to mention that I still feel really carsick? If I get really, really carsick on highway 1, and miss all the stunning views of the gaping, majestic coastline, is it still ok for me to get carsick when we’re driving to the Safeway, just down the street? How carsick can I get then before it’s just bizarre and annoying and everyone has exhausted their ability to kindly pity me and offer me water?
I’ve been married for over a month now. Sometimes I look down and see the ring and wonder what it’s doing there, on a hand that looks so immature. I’m used to my mother’s hand with her rings, and my grandmother’s hand with hers. But my own hand looks young and untested. Almost like it’s playing dress up. After we got married, I looked at Bear and thought, “Oh, there’s Bear!” But my mind didn’t really supply the word “husband.” I could say it aloud without any hesitation. “This is my husband,” hasn’t been a problem. (People compliment me on that a lot: “You’re such a natural! You didn’t even pause!” Like they expected me to say, “This is my boyf—fian—um….wait. Shit. OK. Hang on…I had it just a second ago…”) But when I say “husband,” it’s often just a word. I’ve heard my mom introduce my dad to plenty of people over the course of my life, and it’s not exactly an uncommon phrase.
I’m slow on the uptake. It took me until just recently to look at Bear and think, “Whoa. He IS my husband.” And when I think that, I feel completely overwhelmed.
I start thinking things like, “And that’s his nose. The nose of my husband. The nose that I will look at every day, for the rest of my life. The nose that may end up on our children’s faces if my own nose genes aren’t a lot stronger (which they probably are. Nothing defeats my nose). It’s such a sweet, boyish nose, and yet, this is no boy it’s attached to. This is my husband. Who I chose. And who chose me. Forever.” And then I move my eyes down an inch and think, “Ah, the upper lip of my husband. Here it is. That is the upper lip of the mouth of the man who I have committed my entire life to. He is this whole other person, with a completely different brain, with an understanding of math inside it that I will never comprehend, and yet he is my partner. How is this even possible, when we don’t have the same brain? But there it is…his upper lip. Which is also my upper lip, because he is my husband.” And so on. It’s like I just don’t know how to process the information. Like the earth is opening up and transforming into an enormous, biotech space vessel that will transport all of its inhabitants to another universe, and I’m sitting here, taking another bite of my sandwich and looking at one star at a time.
Is there any other way to do it? I don’t know.
Standing high up in the hills in California, on a path that snaked around their flanks and glided up their backs, I turned slowly in a circle. “I can’t believe you grew up here,” I said. “I can’t believe you saw all this beauty every day.”
“I didn’t really think about it,” he said. “I think you stop thinking about it when you see it all the time.”
“No,” I said. “I would never stop thinking about it.”
My whole life, I’ve wanted to be somewhere really beautiful. Driving to Rutgers for summer classes on route 1 in New Jersey, with the flat strip malls gray and bored, like fences, holding the road in place. I kept looking at the horizon, but there was nothing waiting on it.
And somehow, all the way across this massive country, Bear was convincing his college roommate to walk all night and see where they ended up. It was guaranteed to be somewhere beautiful.
All those hills aren’t quite real to me yet. I know my new family lives in them, but I can’t quite believe that anyone can live somewhere so good looking. The fact that they are my family is not quite real, but almost. I’ve taken so many diet cokes from their refrigerators without asking that it seems impossible not to be one of them by now. And Bear is suddenly my husband, even though I’ve lived for over twenty years without having one and at the same time am probably too young to know anything about the rest of my life. I don’t quite believe it, even though it must be true. I didn’t spend enough time imagining marriage, and I definitely didn’t count on marrying someone with a nose that cute.
* * * *
Un-roast: Today I love how my nails are always dirty. Always. It makes it look like I work with the earth, like a farmer. Which I don’t, and am not. It makes it impossible to ever look completely classy. Which is better, I think. For many reasons.
P.S. Thank you to Bear’s mother, who gave us an impressive post-wedding reception at which about a hundred people took me aside and said, “You married the nicest person in the world. I just want you to know that.”And one of the guests told me my curly hair and Jewish nose were absolutely gorgeous, and that I should never ever change my look. People always assume that with a nose like mine, I haven’t yet tried. 🙂
P.P.S. At the same reception, a lot of people who I’d never met before told me that they read this blog. And people who have met me once or twice before have made their boyfriends read it with them. All of which I really appreciate a lot. An awesome woman who I met on the trip asked Bear if she could call him, well, Bear, in real life. And he said that was fine, since it was probably inevitable anyway.
Kate on November 29th 2010 in Uncategorized
Christin@purplebirdblog responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 1:07 pm #
Super love the paragraph about the realizations of his nose and upper lip. I cannot get enough of your writing. You are brilliant.
Tempest responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 1:29 pm #
Having grown up in NJ as well, when I moved to the Bay Area, it struck me that way as well – it’s sooo beautiful, it’s hard to believe it exists. But after 6 years there, I actually did miss NJ, right down to the stank of the marshes at lowtide, and real Fall, and even snow. (and now I live in RI, with extra doses of Fall and snow and marshes..) But the Bay Area sure is lovely to visit 🙂
But don’t feel bad, route 1 is bad enough to make even the most sturdy of people carsick, and then some. It really takes some getting used to, and even then…
ali responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 1:44 pm #
This post made me teary-eyed. Love it!
Cindy responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 1:53 pm #
We took Hwy 1 on our Honeymoon to San Francisco and my “nothing phases me” husband was sweaty palms and white knuckles while trying to hide it.
and I was hanging my head out the window saying…COOOOOOOOOL …you can’t see the ground!
hehehehe
I had no idea I was freaking him out!
what a great visit you had…
can I call Bear, Bear too???
has it really been over a month????? Jeepers time flies!
Kate responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 2:34 pm #
@Christin
You make me feel really good about myself.
Kate responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 2:36 pm #
@Tempest
Wow. NJ, Bay Area, and then RI. I want to hear your story! I can actually imagine missing NJ, as little as I like it a lot of the time. It keeps it very real, which I appreciate.
Kate responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 2:37 pm #
@Cindy
Haha!! I love the image of the two of you flying around those wicked curves…You are cool.
Yes, go ahead and call him Bear. You have my permission (he’s going to write to me on gchat when he reads this comment)
Alice responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 4:19 pm #
Lovely post. Your impressions and insights also help open Bear’s eyes to see a lot of old things in a new way. This is a wonderful thing.
Amy responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 8:00 pm #
I moved to Northern California from Philadelphia 11 years ago, and you know what? I still haven’t stopped seeing and marveling at its particular brand of beauty, though I too miss real fall and snow like nobody’s business sometimes. Weirdly, what I *have* grown accustomed to, and no longer mind at all, is Highway 1. Maybe it’s ’cause the seascape payoff is so, so much bigger than that of the Jersey shore. 😉
This is a great post.
Holly responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 8:22 pm #
I’ve lived there always, except for semesters-in-exile (BA, now), and I still haven’t stopped thinking about how beautiful it is. I like you for saying that.
Wei-Wei responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 8:29 pm #
Over a month already? Time flies. And I have exams next week. Why does time have to go by so quickly like this? But anyway, I haven’t read your writing in a while and the power of it just comes back to me again. I think I’m going to go read some more of your old posts from your wedding. Never fails to make me teary.
Lucy responded on 29 Nov 2010 at 8:54 pm #
What a beautiful post. Time does fly. Glad you had a beauty-filled trip.
Gaby responded on 30 Nov 2010 at 12:21 am #
I think you get used to anywhere you live. For instance, I’m fascinated by New York and tall buildings and billions of people who walk and taxis that honk and smog and crowded subways. For most of my life I took for granted the abundance of trees and sidewalks and the pool in my backyard and the giant grassy space where my dogs run around and I complain about driving even though I know I’ll miss the convenience of being able to hop in my car without a second thought and get myself anywhere I want to go. But I agree, the Bay Area is fantastic!
I absolutely love your writing and reading about your new marriage and love. You put into words all the things that are so hard for most…and you make me want it. I want what you and Bear have one day. And that sounds like I’m just jealous, but I’m not at all. I’m thankful for the reminder of what that feels like and makes me hopeful for the future.
unroast: I love the way I rocked the sweater dress and boots look today for work despite Houston jumping back up to 80 degrees again today (40’s over the weekend, 80 today, back to 60 tomorrow, geez) I’m dressing seasonally appropriate anyways because it’s almost December and I like my winter clothes!
zoe (and the beatles) responded on 30 Nov 2010 at 1:24 am #
kate, your writing is so beautiful. i really love reading your posts. they’re always so eloquent and funny and poignant. i live in the bay area and it is beautiful here. for a long time i thought like bear did and became kind of desensitized to the gorgeous scenery around here. then sometime last year i realized how ridiculous it was NOT to! now you can find me every day pouring over how lovely every bit of nature is. california is pretty amazing. scratch that. northern california is pretty amazing 🙂
unroast: today i also love my finger nails. i usually hate the way they look but today they look cute and not short and stubby like how i generally see them.
San D responded on 30 Nov 2010 at 6:49 am #
After 38 years I am still amazed at the landscape that is my husband’s face, his deep pools of eyes, the curve of his brow, his magestic nose and of course his abundant moustache. While I have traveled all over the world, seen many beautiful and stirring landscapes, the one that thrills me most is called “home”. In truth, the other areas, most beautiful, seem like a 3D movie and temporary. May your month of glorious exploration and realizations extend to many years, and may we be so lucky to read about them.
Kate responded on 30 Nov 2010 at 1:04 pm #
@Wei-Wei
You are so sweet. Good luck on your exams!!
@San D
Beautifully put!! (Sigh…) Romance…I’m inspired by your love.
Dana Udall-Weiner responded on 30 Nov 2010 at 2:28 pm #
So glad you are back and posting again! Your writing is wonderful, and I particularly loved the descriptions of the hills near the bay area and the NJ strip malls. Both were perfect.
Just Josie responded on 01 Dec 2010 at 7:37 pm #
I just adore your writing, Kate. Honestly, I do. Like when you talk about how you have trouble wrapping your mind around the fact that Bear is really your husband… it’s just so eloquent, and I can totally relate. Well, not to the “husband” part, ’cause I’m only 15 and don’t believe in the institution of marriage…, but I can certainly relate to the mind-blown-gosh-why-can’t-I-get-my-head-around-this?! bit. 😉
Un-roast: Today several different boys told me I have pretty eyes. Not that my sense of self-worth comes from them, but it occurs to me that I do. My eyes have been almost every color it’s possible to be (born brown, then hazel-y, then bright blue for the longest time, and then just recently grey, silver, but now they’re green, lol), and they have… depth? Lol, I don’t know. Also, I’ve come to accept the fact that I am just not cut out to be “mysterious” like every “woman’s” magazine I’ve ever read pounds into my head that I must be. (Incidentally, considering the regularity with which I mock said ladymags, you’d think I’d be immune to their messages by now, but alas, no… D:) I’m very much the weird quiet girl unless I like you, at which point I get super-open and awkward and just have these epic dork-out moments. Anyway, I’ve recently refused to feel at all guilty about this, because after all, I can only be me, and if I’ve trying to repress/censor myself I’m going to be even less charming than usual. 😉 (Jk.)
P.S. When I re-start my blog, I’m going to do an un-roast feature like you — I think it’s sehr cool that you have an item (“Wild Fun,” “Un-roast”) at the end of each of your entries. But I’ll be sure to tell my readership (ha! “readership”… kind of a pretentious word, no? :D) that I got the idea from Kate of Eat the Damn Cake. Y’know, promotions… 😛
Cassie responded on 03 Dec 2010 at 9:13 pm #
Late to the uptake on this one… just stopping by to say that I remember when I was on my honeymoon, I looked at my new husband and when he asked me what I was thinking I said that I couldn’t believe I had my own person. All for myself. Another human being, “belonging,” in a way, to me. And because I’m a cardiac nurse, and I’m freaky, sometimes even now, four years later, I lean my head on his chest and listen to his valves snapping open and shut and I tell him again how overwhelmed I am at the thought that anyone, let alone him, would chose me to belong to. What funny little mortals we are, at times. Love this post!
Kate responded on 04 Dec 2010 at 10:00 am #
@Just Josie
Your eyes sound amazing. If you can send me a photo of you eating cake that features your eyes prominently, that’d be ideal 🙂
And I’m excited to read what you come up with when you re-start! Keep me updated, and I’ll link to you
Kate responded on 04 Dec 2010 at 10:01 am #
@Cassie
Totally. And the heart bit is perfect. We ARE funny little mortals.
Eat the Damn Cake » Wimp responded on 04 Apr 2011 at 2:36 am #
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