Homeless

Jody and I bought our home on Bostwick Road in 1994.  It’s been the scene of our joys and some sorrows.  Cuddling on the couch in the family room.  Enjoying evening fires on the patio.  Being together during my dear wife’s illness, including a day when Jodiette took 400 steps with her walker on the driveway.  Home.

Except it’s not that anymore.  The energy of Jody and Bruce is everywhere I look.  All those moments together, tied to the house and the yard.  Spots inside and out are no longer magic … they’re flat.  How can that be?  Well, it doesn’t matter how.  It just is.

Jody and I planted three magnolia bushes on our front lawn when we moved in.  Today they’re trees 20 feet tall.  Last week they were in full glorious bloom, white flowers with a touch of pink and the sweetest scent.  Absolute beauty in the world.  In previous Mays I plunked a folding chair amid them and drank in the glory.  But in 2016 I didn’t want to do that.  I should want to, said my brain.  I decided to follow my heart and stay away.  How fascinating to be in paradise but not feeling it.  Wow.  I need to be somewhere else (such as a lovely-to-be condo in Belmont).

I don’t want to sit on my patio and listen to the birds.  I don’t want to sink deep into my couch.  I don’t want to sit in my man chair, eating breakfast and reading the paper.

Jody understands.  “Create a new life, Bruce, in a new home.  It’s not that you’re forgetting me.  You’ll be flying again, and I’ll be there with you.”  Thank you, my love.  Fly I will.

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