Home is Where Our Story Continues

 The first day of Winter, a new season, a new home and the ongoing story. On this day I think of all that. Christmas is such a nostalgic time and we tend to long for days gone by. We pull out the decorations and hang the old ornaments on the tree and we remember. This year we are in a new house. Now I realize for many people changing houses is no big deal. Some have made several moves and find the packing and purging a fairly simple task. I am not one of those people. On December 17th , 1988 Burton and I moved into our not quite finished home. We had been building it for four years and finished or not we were spending Christmas there with our three kids. We'd been living with my parents for five months, the kids sharing a bedroom and Burton and I sleeping next door at my grandparents. The fall had been a challenge and I know I felt it then but when looking back  I remember taking it in my stride just fine. We do tend to remember certain things with rose colored glasses. That fact gives me the assurance that I will look back at the challenges we have faced this fall with the same perspective. Now even with the challenges, I have felt a huge amount of gratitude and joy. But along with those emotions I have felt stress, exhaustion and sadness. A huge change has occurred and a much different chapter in our story is being written. Change is hard and requires a  lot of positive self talk and kindness. The job is not done even though I wake up every day loving our new surroundings. There is still packing and  purging and letting go to do and I find myself a bit envious of those who have done that regularly instead of accumulating thirty four years of stuff. But along with the stuff are the wonderful memories of raising our four children and welcoming our five grandchildren under that roof. We now get to see our youngest son and his fiancé write their own story in the house we built. The rest is just stuff and clutter and  in the end the story will be a victorious one of love and fortitude and those  stories are the best kind!

Still Weary and a Bit Weepy

 I am catching my breath this morning as I sit in gratitude and exhaustion. There is still much to do but much has been done. Lists and motivation seem too much to process today so I will allow some refreshing and rest instead. Yesterday I did my last sale and was pleased to meet return readers and new ones. I have edits coming for my spring book and look forward to January's return to the book I started while in the city. I will wait for it to take shape and find the words to fill the pages when the time is right. I feel overwhelmed with thoughts of Christmas but will give myself permission to let it be whatever is will be this year. Last night  the wind blew and the rain pelted down but today the sun is streaming through my office window. A good cry seems to be waiting as I approach Zac's 44th birthday tomorrow. Yesterday a woman walked by my table and casually mentioned The Year Mrs Montague Cried to her friend. " I taught Zachary White" she said. I let her keep walking. It is not for her to understand the loss I carry every day. The tears are coming now and maybe a good deluge will prevent them from coming later. I remember the first birthday I faced my friends  Marilyn, Alice and Alexandra brought me a cake. The woman at Sobeys had got the wording wrong and we laughed at her mistake. I think it said 'Happy Birthday That' instead of Happy Birthday Zac. Laughter tears, joy and sorrow, memory and  forgetting. Days turning to years and life going on. Dark days becoming light and pain accompanied by hope. Seasons changing and gifts surfacing when we least expect them. I will receive this day as the gift it is and do my best to truly appreciate it. My mind and heart will face tomorrow as well and I will claim happy birthday to that!