good morning world

This morning I was thinking about Bailey, and how he used to wake me every morning before 6, and how I didn't like it much, but got used to it. Since he's been gone, it's unusual for me to be at the computer before the sun actually rises. But today I am. And so I'm here, thinking about when this used to be a regular thing. I am strangely conscious of the changes in my life. Seems like my whole life I heard the phrase, "all that is constant is change." Somehow, these days, there seems to be no truer thing.

A consultation with the "other side" affirmed what I've known for awhile...that the teaching has run its course, and that I won't be doing that anymore. And so I am left with the question, "what next?" And I'm sure I don't know the answer. I keep waiting for a sign to point me off in some direction. Don't see it yet. Lynnette says I should write Steve's story. It feels like the right thing to do, and yet somehow I know he wouldn't want it on paper. He holds it close. How could I convince him that it needs to be told. The cast of characters would be colorful, and they are oh-so-real. The story is painful and harsh - the plot hard to conceive for most people, including me. Life is indeed stranger than fiction. There is no ending...at least not yet, and this will write itself as time passes. Will he live "happily ever after?"

The sun is rising on my SLRH and my SLB. The flowers we planted out back are growing tall and beautiful. Best of all, the bluebonnets have indeed shown their rich color. I can see them from the window and they make me smile. They have answered the question I posed when planting them with a resounding "yes" - a transplant from Texas can indeed thrive in South Dakota. Geraniums, bachelor buttons, zinnias, and some other pretty little blooming things form quite a border in front of the stone that marks the property line. And when I sit out back watching the birds that frequent the feeder, I know they agree...this is a good place to be.

The property management company is going to paint the outside of the SLRH, or cover the wood with vinyl siding. Perhaps I will have to rename this place. With a nice yard and a nice house it may become my LLRH (Lovely little rent house). It will be restored to the beauty it once was. Change happens, and with it we change, or become ourselves again.