About that light at the end of the tunnel …

I want to remember this when my world is silent, dark and ghostly white. The seasons will change and life will move forward so it is time to grasp this moment.

A thick, wilted day of summer heat and humidity. Cooling devices struggle with the moisture in the air, insects lazily finish their mating. Alice and I walked through a cloud of massive dragon flies on our morning promenade. Just stepping under the garage door as it rose into the thick air at 8am reminded me that it could have been a wall of ice and crackling frigid breath that met me.

I’ve taken “shabby chic” to a whole new level; casually discarded layers of clothing and living with rumpled sheets has replaced five layers at all times and thick down comforters. It’s back to Alice and me against the world, or at the very least the impolite drivers of our road when we walk in the morning. They know no season; so there is at least one constant.

Don’t like the weather? Don’t like what is going on at this exact moment in life? Give it a moment.

Two years ago I was marveling at my lack of emotional and financial meltdown after 9 months of unemployment. You can read about it here if you are so kind, but in summary:
Life is allowing me to reinvent. When I find myself completely frustrated and scared with the schedule of this discovery, I have to remember there is no timeframe. There is no dress rehearsal, no do-over before you do it.

Huh, no do-overs? So far this muddling forward seems to work. Therapy for those Misadventures we all face. For some it is meditation in the morning; perhaps some yoga to stretch and come into the physical world. Mine is just to look back every once in a while and review the road I have traveled.

It has been a week of throw-back scenes to lives lived. Doppelganger’s visit ended with NH Chronicle airing from Twin Lake Villa in New London, New Hampshire. If you know anything about my past, you are aware of a Therapeutic Misadventure that occurred there and lead to where I am today. This was the ancestral home of Roger Kidder, my first husband and my partner is the first chapter of my adult life. (Along with Doppelgänger who had the pleasure of knowing me as Martha Walsh.) The images on the show of a home we set out from and dreamed of returning to one day, dug deeper than I expected.

Sitting here as the light fades, the crickets chirp and the lilies scent the air, I scratch a bug bite and swat at a passing mosquito. Who am I kidding? I would give my right butt cheek for this kind of warmth in March!! See that light at the end of the tunnel?

N.B.These are just my recollections. If you are reading this it might be because you have a few? Write it down, please! For you, for me, for whoever, so you can look back and draw strength from how far you have come.

(or you can just hang with me and I will capture some of it for you…)