Life Part 2 begins today. I’m sitting home alone, my trusty sidekick Stella at my feet, Silk and Siete eating hay in the pasture and Velcro curled up on the ledge of the kitchen window. This is how it’s going to be for a while until I figure out what to do next. We loaded up the car yesterday, drove an hour and a half to take our daughter to college, settled her into a cozy dorm room and came home to a very quiet house. Then, very early this morning, I dropped my husband off, and he went to work out of town on a gig for the rest of the week. I have a plan, with friends and a good support system of neighbors to keep me company, but it still feels really weird.
My daughter and my mother have been the bookends and focus of my life for so many years, and suddenly they are both gone. I’m at peace with my mom’s death. After all the early tumultuous years, we had a wonderful time in the end of her life full of appreciation and loving, and she died without a moment of pain or suffering. She experienced the joy with me and my husband of guiding her only grandchild into being a delightful, confident young woman. And this daughter of mine is everything and more that we ever hoped she would be. So, even though I feel a bit hollow right now, I have not one ounce of regret, and I know how lucky I am to be able to say that.
For now, I will turn my attention to teaching the dog to walk calmly on a leash, grooming the horses so they don’t look so shaggy and picking up a paintbrush to see what comes out next. I feel like for now, I’m standing in perfect balance at the center of a teeter-totter. I’m going to concentrate on enjoying life in my little safe haven because I know that at any moment, something might come hurtling in to disrupt this delicate equilibrium. I intend to take this twinkling of grace and savor it while I can.