It's hard for me to remember what happened when. At some point the mommie stopped wanting to come to the nest. She was just too afraid. I started spending the weekends with her. Her fear got worse as the dementia deepened. I spent more and more time with her and less and less time in the nest.
And then she was gone.
There were things in the nest that were accommodations for her. Chairs. Furniture arrangements. All of that has changed. I have freedom but it doesn't feel free. The nest was technically hers and now it's mine. I am endlessly grateful.
I used to sit in my bedroom and stare into the library and just be happy about the fact of it. We turned the library into a little hospital room for the mommie and I wondered if it was going to change my feeling for the room. It deepened the feeling. All of the meaning making in the all of the books pales in light of that experience. That little room held us for that terrible time.
I still doubt that I'll fill all the shelves with books but right now it looks like they are full. If you move a chair you see the empty shelves and the messy shelves but the chairs hide all that. It looks lovely and I sink into it.
I'm still ambivalent about the Hood. I like some things but I find it shallow and ohsowhite. I just learned that Oregon began with a Constitution banning black people. How did I end up living in a state that began with a Constitution banning black people?
We did have our first annual Pride parade this year. It felt really small town and really sweet. It's a beautiful town in a beautiful state. I love watching the way the colors change with the seasons. I have a few very dear friends. I just don't feel part of much.
I am just here in my nest. Probably with a book.
That sound kind of pitiful and I don't feel pitiful at all. I honestly take take pleasure in just sitting and looking around the room.
It's been a difficult year emotionally. I'm still sad a lot. I still cry a lot. But that seems normal. It's not that hard.
I can't find a way to say how I feel that doesn't feel cliche or trite. This was a year in which something ended. And so. Ya know. I am trying to conjure the next phase.