So it’s all done. It’s all happened. We are safely moved into the new house. The one in the nice part of town just a few doors down from the river. The one with the wall to wall windows, the bathtub and the dishwasher. The deck that’s half the size of the house and the nice big backyard. We’re all settled in now. There are so many things that lend themselves to the beauty here. The way the many windows catch the light, especially the bedroom windows facing south. The expansive space of the open concept kitchen and living room. The warm ambience of the lights at night, the general sapience of my paintings and shelves of books. The aroma of Marie’s cooking paired with the sweet music of her singing.
In my last blog entry written when I was still in my second-floor bachelor apartment, regular readers will remember how I’d lost the trees that had given me so much pleasure in the seven years I lived there before my landlord had them razed for reasons that are still not apparent to me. That lot now is just a muddy parcel of bare earth. There probably couldn’t have been a more poignant sign that it was time for me to move. We, Marie and I, six months into our relationship, spent the Christmas holidays looking for apartments, having decided we wanted to cohabitate. We found a few units that were nice but, as the real estate market goes, they were snapped up quickly by other applicants, leaving us to surge on for other viewings. When we found this apartment, which is really the main floor of a house, we immediately knew we had to have it. I can tell you that the wait to see if our application had been accepted was torturous. But here we are now, and life is fresh and new.
It might seem like our relationship has moved at lightning’s pace and you’d be right. It’s true that there was a risk that we could be completely wrong for each other, where there would be some undisclosed flaw in one or both of us that would end up as a dealbreaker. Against the odds, no such flaws have materialized. Realistically, we are human and we have the requisite quirks that come with that humanity, but our puzzle pieces match together, quite miraculously, I would say. I now feel the last ten years are truly behind me, but maybe it’s a homecoming that goes back even further. Indeed now that I am returning home from work to meet Marie, sharing kitchen duties, talking and laughing through dinner then convening on the couch to watch an episode or two of Yellowstone or Love On The Spectrum, I am experiencing a homeyness, a hygge, a gezelligheid that I had not felt since living with my parents. It’s such a beautiful feeling.
The only difference now is that this is all mine. Mine and Marie’s.
It’s something Marie and I have worked towards for quite some time, even individually before we'd even met each other. Now it seems to be paying off. It really feels like some kind of favour and grace is shining on us and we are so happy and grateful for it.
So when we feel such wealth, the most logical step is to share it. As the folk adage goes- “If you have more than you need, build a bigger table not a higher fence.” So we are willing to open our doors, offer our table, our chairs, our floors and our home. It’s true that the biggest joy I have now is having family and friends over. There is so much joy to be found in these events and the house lends itself to that. So now we have a plan to put that joy to good use.
I’d done it once before. It was supposed to be a poetry event in the loft of a bar called Sami’s in Welland, Ontario. It was my contribution to a series of events called the Niagara Literary Festival in 2011. I put myself in the local newspaper, posted flyers all around downtown and promoted it heavily on Facebook and invited poets who were all on tour at the time, from Hamilton, Ottawa and British Columbia.
No one showed up.
The other artists- one of whom was Catherine herself, having driven across the continental divide in a tightly packed smart car- they showed, of course. Rob McLennan, Gary Barwin, Monty Reid. They, and a couple others, all were there. Without an audience, we just ordered drinks, some food and read to each other, taking turns stepping up to the mic and sharing versions of our works. Because of them, one of my most humiliating failures were simultaneously one of the greatest nights of my life. We simply read to each other, drank, talked and laughed. It was wonderful and memorable.
So when Catherine posted news about her latest event, I mentioned that I would like to do the same. She was delighted to hear it and decided to make it the topic for Ms. Lyric’s Poetry Outlaws, her podcast which I listen to regularly and support through Patreon. In it and on the resulting Facebook post, she graciously mentions my name and presents some great resources for putting on a home salon paired with her own advice stemming from her own experiences and misfires. All of it informs me and inspires me to carry this idea through.
I talked it over with Marie and she loves the idea of opening our home for an art event. The open concept of our home would provide ample space for a small audience, especially in the warmer seasons where we can access our large deck and spacious backyard. So this is the plan. We are going to do this in the summer and hopefully again in the fall, inviting writers, artists and musicians to curate, read and put on performances in our home. I don’t yet know what I’m going to call it and am not sure exactly when we will make this happen. Rest assured that it will happen though. Keep your eyes open on my personal Facebook newsfeed and my business page: Kees Kapteyn - Author as well as keeskapteyn.ca, Threads, Blue Sky and Instagram.
This is going to be good!!
