The Spencer Letters

Letter 41.

Dear Spencer,

This is the longest I've gone without writing you a letter. I think it's been a month since the last one. I don't know if it's because I didn't have anything big to report or because I've been busy.

I can't tell a Wednesday from a Saturday anymore, but I can tell you that staying busy has been really good for me. When I'm busy I don't think as much, I don't miss as much, I don't cry as much, I don't hurt as much.

Maybe part of my problem was having too much time on my hands. Working nights for my uncle gave me too much freedom to come and go as I pleased and take days off and do whatever I wanted, but what I needed was structure.

You'll be shocked to hear that I've moved in with my parents. Yes, the thing I once considered my worst nightmare, is today the best decision I could make for me and my baby.

It all started about three weeks ago when word got around and I got a bunch of alteration work to do that consumed great part of my mornings. But then I'd be tired at night and the bar would be open late and the music and noise wouldn't let me sleep and the loft suddenly wasn't as comfortable and homey for me anymore.

So, to take a little break from it all, I went to visit Aunt Carol again a week ago, but just for the weekend, and when I came back I was surprised by my dad and uncle.

While I was gone, they had turned my parents' garage into a studio for me. Saint Miles and Uncle Shane had brought the sewing machine from the loft, added a couple of tables to my work space, and used the shelves where dad's tools used to be for all my materials. I was emotional for the whole day! Hormones... you know?

"What about the cars, though?" I questioned, with my hands still covering my mouth in disbelief.

"The driveway is big enough for two cars, and if you come live with us, you know how to parallel park, right?" My dad thinks he's so clever!

So, with the surprise came the offer.

"Why don't you come home, honey? If you're going to be here working most of the day, might as well crash here too, don't you think?"

My dad is in fact a smart man who knows me very well. He made the proposal sound like just a suggestion that was very logic and made a lot of sense. His goal was to not make me feel like I had failed in life and had to crawl back to my parents for rescue.

I accepted and didn't feel like a loser doing it. Having already said that I was going to stay in town indefinitely so that my child can be near its father, I knew I couldn't live at the loft for much longer. But I'm in no position to pay rent by myself for a place of my own. And if I'm honest, with the baby on the way I feel safer not living alone.

What better place than home, then? My parents never touched my room when I moved out, and the house is big enough that I don't have to be sharing a space with them all the time if I ever need to get away.

It's been a few days since I moved in and so far so good.

My mom has become a new person since our heart to heart when I revealed I was pregnant. Not only has she returned to being as loving as I remembered her from before we fought, but she's also gotten softer than she ever was. I believe it's the grandma in her starting to come out, in preparation for when the title is finally official.

Every now and then, though, we still have deep conversations about things that she did or said that I didn't understand at the time. Like why she was so adamant in having me go to France, but made me feel like my career choice was a joke to her at the same time. If she really wanted me gone, why not encourage my passion for designing?