I'm not sure how winter will go for us this year, but today we're warm, in a little house that sat empty since the 1980's. It's got several layers of wallpaper peeping out that refused removal and it's got old green shag carpet that came from the seventies and walls with cracks and places where the batton-board shows through broken plaster wall.
And we love it.
It's a rare gift to have such a wide margin on your life, (as Thoreau would put it). For awhile, we'll take things as they come, and softly, slowly make things turn the way they need to for us to move forward in a goodly fashion. On the way from here to there, we may not make Christmas happen this year (again). On the way there, we are rationing our storehouse of food and using our dribble-bit of money for seeding the future. Mark's health is improving slowly, and I've got my spunk back. We've got good friends right here, right now, proven friends who didn't trash us along the way and who don't expect us to be flawless, as they are not, themselves, flawless.
I know where we're bound. And we're taking positive steps to get there. In the meantime, we'll bake our crustless pumpkin pies in a sweet little 70's kitchen in a house with a sagging front porch on the Midland Trail. We'll work hard, but take time for other things, too. In the evening, he'll play his guitar and I'll dabble in paint, learning things life teaches, like perspective and proportion and contrast, and the sweet way colors tend to blend toward wholeness.
2 comments:
Beautiful. If only everyone on earth could be as content with their lot in life. Makes one envy your bounty. Hugs to you and happy Mark is recovering.
Thank you, Barbara! I'm not generally this content. It was a wild year and I'm so happy not to be where I was that it counts as being happy to be where I am. (If that made sense).
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