Two years in Rhode Island

We arrived at our house in Rumford two years ago today. The last couple of days in St. Louis we spent in a hotel, while the movers loaded the truck. We collected all the birds into two cages that fit into our cars and made a three-day drive from St. Louis to Rumford. 

It was an depressing arrival. There had been torrential rain, and the street leading up to the house was flooded in about six inches of water. We hugged each other with relief when we got out of the car. We were told there would be a lock box on the door with the house keys, but that was missing. While we waited for the keys to be delivered, Linda realized she’d left her purse—with her credit cards, driver’s license, insurance cards and passport—at a rest stop at the west end of the Mass Turnpike.

Through good fortune, we were able to find the kind soul who rescued Linda’s purse and drove back the next day to get it. During the four-day wait for the truck to arrive with the rest of our worldly belongings, we slept on an inflatable mattress. As it turned out, our troubles were only beginning, and it took another year-and-a-half to make all the repairs to get the house in reasonable working condition. Friends who have bought and sold several houses (this is only our second house) tell me that what we experienced with home repairs is common and to quit whining.

Two years in, I’d say I’m happy with the quiet leafy neighborhood and we have some great neighbors. We got what we expected in terms of amenities—restaurants, theater, live music, parks—and Linda is able to drive out to see Rebecca, Anna and Jonah most weekends. There’s a great bakery and a good deli a half-mile walk from our front door. Linda goes the senior center a couple times a week for exercise and meditation, and has joined two book clubs. The weather here is better than in St. Louis. My sister Judy lives in Boston, we’ve caught up with a couple of high school friends, and we’ve visited with a couple of cousins who live in the area. I’m happy to live in a blue state for the first time.

I’m not a sentimental person, but East Providence still doesn’t feel like “home” to me. I guess after 40 years in St. Louis, that’s to be expected. I never asked my folks how long it took them to feel at home when they moved after nearly four decades in Oak Ridge TN to rural Washington County NY, although I know my mom was very happy with her choice. I figure we’ve got another 20 years or so to figure it out.