I moved into my permanent home on my 51st birthday a week ago Friday. Things are resolving with lightening speed these days. I have a permanent place to live, my land is completely cleared and almost ready to sell (one thing left to resolve), Larry's estate is almost settled, I've ultimately decided not to sue my former township. So things that were making my blood boil are 99 percent complete. Now we're down to petty annoyances because I'm still tired and grouchy from the ordeal of the fire and loosing both Larry and Montana. Most of my to do list was comprised of things that I had to do and not things I wanted to do but that is slowly shifting and changing. I sat in my new backyard with a cup of coffee this am and listened to the soft zee zee of cedar waxwings, watched a Carolina wren climb down my Rose of Sharon tree. Said hello to a pair of cardinals as they quickly landed on my fence, discovered me and moved on, listened to the sleepy chirp of crickets and neighbors going about their Saturday morning routine. Oakley barked and pointed at some squirrels performing acrobatics from the tall pine trees beyond my property and sniffed the air; happy to have a yard again.
Inside, the house has tons of character and all who see it say, "yes, this house feels like you". And so not only do I have my faithful companion of a dog to love, a dog who probably saved my sanity, but I have a new home to love and play house in, decorate and clean and cook.. This is the type of home where, with so many vestiges of the past, it just feels right to have bacon, eggs and toast for breakfast and iced tea in a earthenware pitcher and a pie to share when friends come.
Yes, there is finally a place to rest and recover.
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