This year seems to have flown by. By the year…I’m talking about my work year…my ‘school year.’ There’s a countdown going in the work room, but it’s a bit early for me to count the days. I like to wait until we are down to the last three weeks.
Part of me wants to take the time left and put it in slow motion…dragging the days out. On the flip side, I’m so looking forward to spending Summer in Colorado at the YMCA of the Rockies doing volunteer working. I’m sandwiched between the two feelings because of the change I”m making in my life.
Every night as I turn back the covers and get in bed, I wonder how many more nights I have left to sleep in this room. I’ve spent over 5,000 nights here. It’s comfortable and familiar; I’ve snuggled, laughed, and cried under this roof. We sat in the kitchen, as a family, sharing meals, teasing and talking. It’s here, I watched my son go from a young boy to a man. We took life for granted thinking we’d always be together.
It’s here that I was a wife and here that I became a widow. I can recall vividly, the first time we spent the night in our ‘new’ place and the time I came home knowing John would never share it with me again.
I’ve gone through so many emotions and have grown so much as a person and in Christ in this home. Although the events happened in this house, it’s the memories that I’ll take with me. They are buried in my heart, not kept here on Honey Street.
There’s been the tiny moments of triumph as I learned how to do new things around the house. Just last week, I dug up the septic tank (for the second time), and remembered the sweet compliment I got from John the first time I dug it up. It wasn’t directed to me, but about me. I can still here the pride in his voice as he bragged on me digging it up by myself to the man pumping the septic tank. As I was digging, I flashed back to it and I had to swallow back tears.
I remember the lesson that Cam gave me on how to cut the lawn with the riding lawn mower before he went off to college. Those slopes in the yard seemed gigantic the first time I mowed it. Now, I don’t even notice them. I’ve cut the lawn mowing time from six hours to just under four now for the whole yard.
Then there’s been the ‘handy husbands’ who’ve given their time doing countless items on my ‘honey do lists’ over the years. Their sweet kindness is not forgotten and was much appreciated.
It’s been raining, so much that I’m mowing the grass weekly. I wake up every morning, make the bed, put dishes in the dishwasher, and sweep up the June bugs that find their way in the night. (Zoey seems to think that they are snacks). It’s not too bad keeping the house clean, but other concerns are popping up. Seems that there’s more to repair now that it’s time to sell. There are times that I feel overwhelmed with all the responsibility, along with work.
With all that being said, It’s hard to put into words how I’m feeling about letting it go. It’s time. I know it’s time, but it is like the house was tethering me; keeping me bound to this place. Now that it’s going, I feel at loose ends. Maybe it’s because I have no plans where to live.
I feel like a helium balloon tied on a string. Part of me is begging for someone to hold me and keep me safe. The other part of me tied to that balloon string is whipping in the wind; wondering what it is like high in the clouds…free to go where the wind blows me. One moment I’m unconcerned about the future and the next, I’m near to tears wondering where I fit.
I’m waiting. I’m bouncing in the wind. I’m praying for God to show me what I’m suppose to do.
I’ve written this scripture, Col. 3:17, on a card and I read it every time I pass it.