Well I did it. A year
and 2 months a widow and my home, that has been languishing on the market,
finally sold. I lowered the price, more than I ever thought I would or could, but
it’s done and I’m very ready to turn the last page of this chapter of my life’s
story and start a new chapter, the one with me in a different place that I can
call home.
I moved to the lake.
I want a little cottage that I can decorate in white washed wood and
soft French blue. A cozy place for one, where I can set up a studio to paint
and to write and wrap myself up in a comfy Irish knit throw in an overstuffed
chair and sip hot chocolate while I read a good book. First though, I have to
find that place. And to my rescue come
my dear sweet sister and brother-in-law who have invited me to stay in their
lovely home by the lake until I find my cottage and while things like finances,
taxes and filtering through things to store and to give away and to keep or
donate have settled and I can gain a solid footing. I don’t have a clue how I can thank them for
their generosity and unconditional kindness.
I can actually sleep in their home -the whole night through –
restorative peaceful sleep. That’s
something I never thought I would be able to do again. But there is life here, happy – busy -
productive life. And it’s nourishing to me.
I walked down to the shore the other morning. I stood alone and listened to the peaceful
lap lap lap of the small waves bringing crystal clear water to the sand. It’s
still much too cold but oh how I wanted to step out into that pristine water
and let the clarity of it wash over my tired feet and clear my mind that has
been so filled with the emotions and worries of the past year. But then I looked up and the view of the
distant bay over the water with the sail boats safely docked and the seagulls
gliding peacefully with the soft blue water below them and the gentle white
clouds above and it morphed in my mind to a dream that I had repeatedly each
night for about 4 months before Dale died.
I didn’t know then what it meant but it never occurred to me that he was
dying and I would be alone...
I was on the white porch
of a precious white cottage by the bay, happily painting a seashore scene in
muted shades of blue and cream. What I
saw and what I painted was much like the view I was seeing at the shore
now. And then I saw a man in the distance walking along the sand and as
he got closer I could see it was Dale, he was barefoot, dressed in pale blue
jeans and a light blue denim shirt. He
was young and fit and happy and came for a visit. Inside my cottage the furnishings were white -
accented with carefully chosen seashells and white starfish. I was happy there and content - my heart felt
cradled.And as I stood there surrounded by the real life scene a tune emerged from the back of my mind - A song that I had often begged Dale to sing to me in the French language that he loved so very much:
La mer, Qu’on voit danser le long des
golfes clairs….
(translation)The sea, seen dancing along the clear bays. A silver highlights the sea, changing reflections in the rain.
The sea, in the summer sky merges white sheep with angels so pure. The shepherdess’ azure sea – infinite.
See, near the ponds the big wet reeds, see the white birds and the rusty houses.
The sea has cradled them along the shores of clear bays and with a love song - the sea has cradled my heart for life.
And so I begin again, a fresh start in a new place. Even
though I have been painfully, infinitely, indescribably alone, where there have
been days that I try out my voice to see if it’s still there and my ears almost
hurt from the silence, the journey here has not been alone. Angels on both sides of the veil have given
me guidance, comfort, support and love and I am so very blessed.
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