dminmem

dminmem

02 November 2008

Forty Days and Forty Nights

It's Sunday morning. The kitchen clock says 10:57. But it's not. I usually find the end of Daylight Savings time a depressing one. The days are shorter. It's dark at the end of the business day when I'm walking to the car. But, this time, I'm not thinking too much about it.

I suppose that the promise of today and what's transpired up to this forty-first day of Cameron's and my new journey together makes such things insignificant. Gone are the evenings wasting away our time with cocktail hour. Although we spent every one of those evenings together we now feel more connected. It's almost as if the promise of our life together is brighter. We still have a lifetime of work ahead of us and it's work toward which we look forward. Hope really does spring eternal.

For today, though, there is quite a lot of other busy work ahead of us. Along with the spiritual "housecleaning" of the last five weeks there has been a physical one. After being reminded of Linda Blair in a television commercial during the Halloween festivities I could liken it to an exorcism. Years of procrastination or even denial have been finally righted with the emptying of the attic, the yard sale, the elimination of eight azaleas and a diseased mimosa. There have been meetings with contractors, plumbers and electricians. While we've been facing fears of the change within ourselves we've been facing things that were ignored, avoided or "saved" for later.

I find us living "now" more than ever. This honesty and forthright approach to baggage accumulated over our lifetimes is uncovering some old pain. But what it's revealing is the beauty and grace within us both -- that which we saw in each other sixteen years ago -- and I'm grateful for that. If we hadn't been able to see through the things we didn't understand we might not be here, together, today.

So, as I begin catching up on laundry, listing on eBay the more precious things from the attic (to which I no longer need to cling), reclaiming the windows whose views have been obstructed by air conditioners for decades, and finish closing the pool, I am thankful for the work to be done. I am thankful that I have hair that needs to be cut, plaster to dust from the furniture, a vacuum to clean the white dog hair from the rugs, a battery to charge in the Pontiac, Billie and Georgia's poop to remove from the yard, and lots of clocks and watches to set.



It's a fantastic day. I hope you enjoy this one, today, as much as I will.

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