Inside the my little house, with Peter Thompson's Landscape on 44th Street diptych over the fireplace. c. CBerg 2011.
The horse farm property is sold, and I have moved to the little house on the hill. I left the broken rosebud cup at the other house, buried reverently in the compost pile. I wonder now if I should unearth it, collect its shards and glue them back together. It is hard for me to let go of anything, even a broken cup.
I have given away or sold most of my furniture, and a lot of my equipment, almost all of my tack, and truck loads of household items. I still have plenty to keep me, and more that I need to give away or sell.
One of my beloved daughters, Natalie, has gotten the studio apartment assignment, and will be able to start moving in a week. We have waited so long for this, but now that it is here, I am sad, and at the same time I am happy for her in her move toward independence. She is an intelligent, kind, beautiful woman who has had a few setbacks. I have done my best with her and her sisters, and it is time to let them go. "Your children are not your children," as Gibran says. Yet, it is another change.
The flood house is not finished. It was supposed to be finished this week. I knew it wouldn't be. I am changing contractors, in the hope that it will be done, rentable, and will begin to pay for itself. It has been almost a year since we started seriously working on this project. I am thankful that the state and city found the money to help with the renovation, or even that would not be done! Thank you, Jumpstart.
Outside, the sky is gray, and the snow is seriously melting. I wonder if my heart is going to melt too. It has had a coat of mud on it, then got buried in the snow. It has been a long winter, a winter of change and of upheaval. I have not even thought about love until now. My heart hurt too much.
So I begin again. I begin with my body...walking two miles, doing yoga, starting belly dancing, and eating better. It is my vessel to carry me into the future, and to keep me safe. I bought two books on aging, and on Alzheimer's so I will know how to keep myself well for as long as possible. I am lucky to have a generally healthy body, and a great immune system.
I still don't know about the cup. Should I rescue it? Maybe so. It will be nearly as good as new with a tube of super-glue. All that is broken is not lost, is not trash. Some of it is Art with Character lines.