There was something in the air today. I don’t know, kind of a permanency. I started to look around at my yard, and especially the tree in front of my bedroom window. For months now there have not been any leaves like there were when I first moved here.  And, all of a sudden there are leaves. When I moved here last May 21, that’s what I loved about that front window. The privacy. Naturally for months there have only been sticks, waiting for spring to come, I guess. As I sat in my yard tonight, I looked at these flowers, and I realized I’ve been here almost a year.

And I got sad. I remember telling my son just two hours before his graduation simply because we only had two days to move. And I remember thinking I don’t know how I’m going to land on my feet, when this house came up for rent.  And as the story goes, I was only here a month and my sweet nephew was killed. And then there was the summer of trying to recapture love, and an emotional imbalance due to hormonal changes that I did not know or understand. 

Most people are good with seasons changing. I have never been this way. I sort of have this grief as I say goodbye to what was. I’m somewhat of a depressive that way I guess. Tonight, I looked at these bird of paradise flowers, and I remember that’s what I loved most about the garden last year. This was the year that my sons started going to their dad’s house every other day, and I started to understand that they were only with me part of the time now. That first Tuesday night I said goodbye to them, I sat and stared at the television. And it wasn’t even on. I really just didn’t know what to do with myself.
Life is changing. Today, my beautiful son worked on his Eagle Scout project with his friends. And as usual, she inserted herself and some other random children into the mix. She’s always bringing somebody else’s kids to an event, and I had the urge to say to the mother of those kids, “Watch your husband, honey”. But of course I didn’t say that …I bit a hole in my tongue and made a phone call.  My son came to me, and I simply offered to leave after he expressed being upset.  He didn’t even have to tell me why.  We both knew. And because I had so many women before me who modeled what grace and dignity looks like, I left to go pick up the pizzas.

Here’s the thing.  I don’t live there anymore. This park…it was 2 blocks from my old house, and I simply did not feel CONNECTED to it. The place I took my babies after naps, WEbelos scout meetings, T-Ball practice.  It was a place to visit, but it felt very foreign to me. I couldn’t wait to get home …to where I sit, now. On my porch. Listening to sirens, trains, and the occasional ice cream man. 
We’ve been here a year. In this little house with no room…where we sit practically on top of each other for homework, meals, business. The three of us cannot fit in the kitchen at the same time. I still have no dishwasher, and I have survived. I have a shed full of termites, and a little cabin that I love.  The first few weeks, Chet would barely go outside. I constantly locked the doors.  The tree has fallen, I’ve fought a battle with rose beetles, we’ve locked ourselves out of the bathroom a couple of times, I’ve cried myself silly on my back porch missing my nephew. 

And here’s the weird thing. I lived in my last house for 20 years, yet this little house feels more like me than any other place. 

We’ve had a busy day.  Only one person can camp out in the living room at a time. Boys are coming and going, and I provide the snacks.  I know this feeling will pass, just as it always does when I start to write. My beautiful sons are coming back and we are barbecuing a London broil.  We have chocolate and wi-fi.  And we have love. Always love. 💜

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