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| Gathering in the garden (blog: Myfrenchcountryhome) |
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| future front terrace vignette (not yet) (blog:Myfrenchcountryhome) |
These places are inviting, clamoring for guests and family.
What will always be missing? My people, people who have passed, people whose lives are too convoluted to make time to be here, people who live too far away.
The more I fix my nest, my garden, my spaces, the more I feel these losses. I will never have my mother, father, aunts, uncles, brothers, cousins, people I grew up with, people I wish I could be with.
My eldest son in California is unable to travel long distances, and he too will never be here.
My other son died a few months ago. He loved this place. He came up to Oregon as often as he could.
The last time he was here he borrowed a tiller, took it apart and stuffed it in the trunk of his car. He had ideas about renovating his back yard. ( You might remember that his friends made that possible for his memorial.)
Notice how this space is dog-friendly. Butters and Walrus (Brian's and Pia's dogs, respectively) would be gathering under the table, waiting for treats.
Yet, I continue to dream, to gather in these places.
I continue to live.
I breathe deeply and carry on.
