Sunday ramblings 'cause I just dunno....

So, I drive to the lake house to check out the new paint job and deck washin' that we just paid for that requires inspection. Hubby's now good for a day by himself, within reason, hence this necessary trip to check out things in our lake house. It's up for sale now, dammit.

It only now occurred to me that this was my first time back in the house since Hubby's accident.

Pulling into the ol' neighborhood things look about the same as when I left. There's Ms. Neighbor walking her dog, like always. Same ol' golf carts cruising around looking for action. Jetskis zizzing around on the water like angry hornets. (...I hate those things...just for the record...) Other than that it was quiet. Very, very quiet. The kind of quiet one finds on the lake after Labor Day is over. It's the kind of lakey-quiet that I love. Well, it wasn't completely quiet. I heard the red headed woodpeckers wooing and there were some nuthatches scrambling up and down trees and Mr. and Mrs. Titmouse were doing whatever they do high in the treetops while an angry Bluejay flashes back and forth screaming as only they can do.

Anyway, walking along the sidewalk I first note the For Sale sign in our yard. Ick. However, I move on and observe the flowers and possumhaws and bright sunshine before opening the door to our house, and ... whoa. Whoa. Major disconnect. It doesn't smell right. It doesn't feel right. It's someone else's house. Smells like our renters. Oh, please don't take that the wrong way as I loved our renters - the Best Renters EVER. But the house still contained their "essence." Not mine. Not ours.

So, what do I do? I call my road-trip-pelican/sandhill crane-lovin' buddy, Carroll. "Please come down here and be with me!" She promises to come right away. I have to go outside to breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Stepping outside onto the deck overlooking the lake I remember the good times and try to come to terms with whatever it was I was feeling. Finally, finally she comes. A hug means everything, you know? A hug is grounding. A hug reminds you that you are worthy and have friends and that houses are just things. A hug was what I needed. That, and the cool head and wise words of someone who cares.

We walk through the house and make it look more presentable. The paint job looks great. We load the car up with some of my favorite things; my pretty bedside lamp, feathers found at the lake framed in shadowboxes, my Kitchen Aid mixer, coffee pot, my grandmother's chopping block. Bits of this and bits of that that define me as a person.

Oh, that's so not true. Puh-lease. Feathers don't "define me" but for now they remind me of joyful times, good times, fun times. A coffee pot doesn't "define me" but it's mine. The bedside lamp - again, mine, and at least it's pretty. Again, all this is grounding. When one lives neither here nor there one tends to hold onto those little things that have brought joy. A cluster of red buckeye seed pods, rocks, seashells, feathers...reminders of good times.

It's just an odd time but I'm okay. Really, I'm okay. After arriving back from the lake, and after placing those things where they could be seen and enjoyed, I realized something. Road trips are still in my future. The Sandhill Cranes and American White Pelicans will return this winter and when they do I'll be there. The only thing that's really changed is my starting point. Leaving from here, leaving from there - makes no difference to the cranes and the pelicans, the trees and the pathways, the preserves and the parks. It's the going that counts, and it's in the going that I shall find bliss once more.

Therefore, wouldn't you say it's all about perspective? How I see things? Well, of course it is. As my teenager would say with great drama...."Duh!"

"The world is round and the place
which may seem like the end
may also be only the beginning."

Ivy Baker Priest