By Esther C. Baird
First Published in the Beverly Citizen as the final installment of the eight part series “Family Down Under” and the beginning of “Just the Baird Facts” later shortened to “The Baird Facts
Allow me to set the scene for you. As I type this it’s raining, bordering on sleeting. I am wearing jeans, wool socks, slippers, two shirts and a sweatshirt. In addition, I have a hot water bottle on my lap and a mug of coffee in front of me. It’s dark . . .and for the first time in recent memory, I have a cold.
Ah, the Northeast America in unpredictable April; home sweet home.
On our last night in Sydney we had a barbecue with some friends at the beach and walked home along the cliff walk. At 8 pm it was about 80 degrees. My daughter and I picked frangipani flowers and put them in our hair and we wondered if we were crazy to be looking forward to coming back to Beverly. But, much as we loved Australia, and much as I’d rather hear Cockatoos over Crows, I am happy to be back. Hey, we have a beach within walking distance here too – what’s Bondi, with its mile of pure white sand, got over Dane Street anyway?
I can finally relax and not worry that spiders the size of dishware are about to appear above my head, and I certainly sleep better when I know that Henry’s Fine Foods is just down the street for all my last minute dinner needs. We never did have a home phone in Australia, so it feels almost luxurious to pick up a phone and call anyone without having to calculate, using long division and calculus, what time it might be in America and how to dial out on a payphone with a calling card. Finally, the car. The car! The car! Sure I may gain 100 pounds without heaving my daughter, her stroller, all our bags and five pounds of sand everywhere, but whatever, I have a car. I can listen to NPR while I drive. It’s a fair trade.
I knew I was really back in Beverly, back to my normal routine, when I walked into Hallmark Cleaners and the store manager, Bruce, said, “Hey Mrs. B!” Besides the fact that Bruce and I can’t be too far apart in age, (an age, I’d like to point out, that hardly warrants the ‘Mrs’), and despite the fact that his knowledge of both my name and my phone number indicates a level of dry cleaning business from our household that is ridiculously high, it was a great feeling. It’s nice to come back from living on the other side of the world and have your dry cleaner remember you – it’s how you know you’re really home.
We moved to Beverly when I was seven months pregnant, it was a move that came with our first home purchase. After eight years of apartments we were ready to be homeowners and parents – or at least we thought we were. Can you ever really be ready for either of those milestones? As I wipe the diaper cream off my hands so as not to soil my laptop, while wondering if swiffering my floor for the 18th time this week might keep the dust at bay, I think the answer is no. But we do our best.
Having mostly lived in cities over the past decade, our move to Beverly a few years ago meant adjustments of all sorts. But it allowed me to quickly become accustomed to this town we live in a very intimate way. As a first time homeowner of a not very new house, and a first time parent of a very new toddler, there are all sorts of things you need immediately which often means desperate trips into town.
For example: mice in the basement. I’m sure mice in basements are a normal issue for all homeowners when the seasons change, but with no landlord to call we had to draw up our own plan of attack. Panicked, I marched into Town & Paint where they helpfully talked me down from blowing up my entire house and living in a tent, to simply buying some covered mouse traps – a specific sort which incidentally I’ve only been able to find at their store. I buy about five a year since of course I do not release the dead mouse and reuse the trap as instructed. The point, as I see it, is to throw the entire contraption away – the covered part ensures you don’t even have to really see the creature in question.
I’ve had jogging stroller crisis’ where Browns Bike Shop quickly came to the rescue and of course countless rainy day spent at the children’s library wondering how I can sneak out and get a coffee without anyone noticing I’ve abandoned my child. I’ve also had the privilege of working as an intern chaplain at the Beverly Hospital which has allowed me to see some of the more complex and thoughtful sides of this town. This is a town that loves and prays and most of all is loyal to one another.
Every day is an adventure and there is always a story to tell or an opinion to render or lesson to learn. You’ve indulged me in my adventures from down under, and I hope you’ll do the same now that I’m back. I promise to provide just the Baird facts.