A sudden calm has embraced me. I think it comes from deep within, crying your eyes out, sharing with friends (like you), reflecting a bit. And letting some time pass. (For all who emailed me with your own stories and kind sentiments, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I am touched beyond measure.)
Nola and I talked on the phone most of the morning. We shed tears that women our age just sometimes need to spill out. We reminisced about meeting through Blog Land a few years ago. A serendipitous phone call from her aunt telling her she should go visit me. I thank you truly, Aunt Margie.
And then I went out to collect the mail. All cried out, ravenous with hunger all of a sudden, and ready to plow forward. Romantic Homes magazine was in my mailbox. And this little blog was featured in it. Something told me that was a sign I should follow, curves in the road and all.
I’m in good company.
Tina is in there too. And she doesn’t live all that far from me, though I’ve never met her.
I celebrated by gathering the dogs into the Pathfinder and driving down the road to Chick Filet. I really needed a good shot of their dependable sweet tea.
I found that I wasn’t rushing through traffic. I stayed in the same slow lane all the way there. And I didn’t curse any car that cut in front of me. Kind of a new normal for me.
I look into the same mirror in the same room today (wincing about the paint job I haven’t gotten around to). And see somebody slightly different than I did just yesterday.
Bonnie is still gone. The printed out phone bill still sits on my desk, destined for the trash can next time I head to the kitchen. And there was a new development in my life, almost overwhelming in nature. Coming out of the blue so close to everything else.
I never met my father, as most of you know, or anyone in his family. Just recently learned the names of my grandparents, long dead, through the kind efforts of Jodi.
One of his relatives in Arkansas emailed me a couple of days ago. Now I’ve got a long list of family I never knew existed. I’ve learned that an aunt fostered my sisters before they were adopted out. Their first and last names rhyme with mine. It hit me: Did my mother give them those names because she had to give me up? Was it some sort of token of love that she hadn’t forgotten me? You can read about that here.
And it seems I may have relatives right here in my own hometown. Now isn't that something?
The little yellow chair garden is growing like nobody’s business.
The gift basket has gone home with the neighbors (minus some chocolates I had already eaten.) And there’s two plates at the kitchen table.
Normal is a relative term. Thank goodness for that. I mourn my dear kitty Bonnie. And I don’t know when I’ll stop crying for her. I hope by some miracle she comes back to me. But instead of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” running through my head, there is now a replacement.
I think for now I’ll just give Mister In-Between a real wide berth.
“You’ve got to accentuate the positive. Eliminate the negative. Latch on to the affirmative. Don’t mess with Mister In-Between…”
I think for now I’ll just give Mister In-Between a real wide berth.
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