But it’s not home any more. It’s the shadow home, the home that would-have-been. It fits around my heart like home, but like all things, it was just temporary. It was I that made the mistake of calling it ‘my forever home.’ Nothing is forever except the time that flows past us and around us, and continues long after loss and our lives. Even love is not forever, because we cease to be, and so the memory of love dies with us.
If I sound melancholy, I’m really not so much. I am walking through a much lighter space of grief than roads I have traveled before. My friend let me cry a little with her. But I have a hard time really letting go and crying. I am so ugly when I cry, with blotchy face and runny nose, and the weird color of blue-green that my eyes turn which looks startlingly out of place against the redness of my face. And my heart feels like it comes unglued from my chest and I cannot breathe. I guess I cry like I live most of the rest of my life, 80% of it all on the inside and the other 20% hard, and deep and fast on the outside. I learned from a young age not to show my true feelings, and it has been a hard unlearning to practice, and I’m only able to do it with a few people as of yet. Really though, isn’t it just to a few people you want to be open and vulnerable to? I don’t want untrustworthy people coming after my tender bits with a crowbar any more in my life. I’ve had enough of that to last me.
I have missed fireflies. I got to the farm too late to view the rising tide of them at dusk. But when I went to sit on my porch and soak up the night sky and night sounds, there was one. Just one. Bright, pulsing, moving slowly – a male, since the females mainly sit and blink so they can be found. Then this morning, when I tottered outside in my jammies, with still-sleepy eyes and coffee in hand, the one purple tulip that was here when I moved in began it’s unfurling for me. Can a place hug you? Because that is what it feels like being here – being hugged, knowing a parting is coming soon.
If I had not had my well filled by my wonderful friend yesterday, I am not sure I could have made it with the strength that I have today. Even in the midst of her own new trial, she took me in, took me out, shared girly delights like antique stores, gorgeous wisteria, tasty food, laughter and hugs with me. To have one such friend in one’s life is a treasure, but to have two of them? I am blessed beyond words. And the best part of it is that when we all three get together, it is amazing! We’ve only gotten to do it once, however we all want to make it happen again. And we will – because I don’t know too many women with the depth and strength and singleness of mind than us 🙂
I didn’t blow dry my naturally curly hair into submission today, nor put on my daily makeup for the office. I hope I have no unexpected company…lol! Today begins the cataloguing of things to keep, things to sell, things to ship home and things to toss out. I had forgotten how many touches of me I finally began to place on the walls and shelves here. I want to keep some of those things in case I ever land in one spot for any length of time again. I’ve lived out of boxes now for close to ten years – truly amazing and a nod to my gypsy blood. I thrive where dropped, but I thrive better in some soils than others. I need the country. I am stifled and edgy and nervous in the city, even in the little tiny niche place I found that felt moderately right. It’s too close. It’s too populated. It’s too noisy. It’s too busy. However, I will thrive there as long as I have to in order to accomplish my goals; that’s just me. I refuse to give in, give up, refuse to wilt. I function in light and shadows, like my beautiful lone tulip.
So come peek into boxes, sigh over books, breathe in country air with me dear readers. I’m on the starting square of a new direction in life; where, I don’t know. But I do know that I will grab pleasure and beauty wherever I can, trust God, and love hard. It’s the only way I know.