Welcome home

When I would talk to my three-year-old granddaughter about her grandpa, she didn’t believe he lived here. She thought he lived at school. Ah, ‘out of the mouth of babes.’  Though we divorced he lived here for a while. Now, he is moved out; his office upstairs is mostly empty. The rug has imprints of a previous time, time staining the tracks of our life that came before this moment.  I extoll the incredible insights in a book called Couple Skills and given it away to many couples. It is tossed on the floor and tries to hide under a piece of paper.

Sometimes I miss his presence. To know there is another person on the property. There is security in that. In olden times he used to come down to the studio to say hi. That is long gone.  I don’t miss him talking through and around his desk, his area, his corner and the space giving him a shield. For years I wish we could have spoken closer to each other, maybe even touched, it was what I needed. He needed more space 10-15 feet was preferable. He would often talk to me from across the room.
I hated coming up here and intruding on his space to get to my area, my office.

I have walked through this room numerous times to get to my office.  I love my office with the padded window seat in the dormer. If I find the time to rest on it, I can look down upon the stream in the yard.  A stream I built as an oasis in the middle of this big city.  One of the things I find I can do now is to love my home again. I have always loved it, but over the years I held that love inside.  I would be elated about the simplest things, and when people came to our home and said how special the yard was, I would hope my husband would hear it and suddenly have a grand revelation. It was my opinion that my former husband never really had peace inside, and therefore could not find peace outside himself.  I had become accustomed to holding in my exuberance as it felt like my happiness emphasized his pain and frustration.  I did so out of love, and protection, so that I would not have to defend those things I loved. I did not want to defend them. I just wanted to bask in their presence.   Now, I permit myself to love, to appreciate, and merely gush over everyday things. That is the true me. Welcome home.

Pusche

Peeing in corners

After my first marriage of 15 years ended, I remember I went to the hall closet, it was his closet for his clothes. He had come and moved his things out. There were a few Playboy magazines on the floor along with some other trash. I looked at the closet and thought, how will I use this? Then I painted the inside of the closet. Then I painted the hall, and it went on from there. I remember telling a friend that I felt the way I did when my daughter was born. You know that nesting instinct, that desire to clean everything including the crisper drawer.  “ahh” my friend said, “You are peeing in the corners. You are marking your territory.” Yes, that is exactly what I did.

I could not wait for this second marriage to end. It had been lingering for so long. I could not wait for him to move out and then I could being to pee in the corners. Making my mark this time was different. My second husband had what I call Asperger tendencies. He did not like clutter or things on the wall, so over the years of marriage, things came down. My walls were bare.  That is not me. My dad left me several paintings. I gave my daughter one of the best ones. But the rest I began to hang up in my house. My walls now have paintings. My husband did not like change, so I immediately moved my furniture around. I purchased a new/old rocker and made a quaint reading place, and I placed wooden hiking sticks, mine and my granddaughter’s in the corner of the den like talesman. My goal is to get plates from each of the places I go and put them on the walking stick. Apparently, that is a thing, and I am excited to do it. I also own hiking poles that I like better than walking with a stick but I love the idea of a stick covered in symbols of my adventures.

I have purchased electric candles scattered in bunches throughout the house. They are on timers and greet me when I come in at night. It is my way of saying. I love you, I’m thinking of you and you deserve something special.

So, I am peeing in corners once again, and I love it.  I also went into his room and painted. Boy did I paint, I painted and spruced the master suite and made it so pretty. You would think I would move in there, but I’m partial to the other side of the house and have entertained the idea of renting the space. At least I’m getting it ready to do that. It looks great.

Continuing to mark my territory.

Pusche

Take a Hike!

Hiking the back trails of Houston, Texas.

I have always loved going into the woods. I grew up in the north even though I have lived most of my life in the south. We regularly camped in the Allegheny mountains as a child. My favorite plants are those from the woods. I wonder if gardening is nature or nurture. I long to grow those plants from the north that I just can’t grow down here. Bleeding hearts, cinnamon fern, paper lanterns, and others bring back a flood of natural emotion. Ferns and moss make my heart sing. As a child, I would play near any creek or stream. I didn’t mind going during colder months. I loved to treck through the snow and looked for tracks and scat.
In this rebirthing of myself, hiking was a part of me that I wanted to explore. But being single I wondered how?

It was quite easy. There are many meet up groups that hike. The difficulty for me was, could I hike as far as they could go? So, I simply developed my own inner-city woman’s hiking group. I became the webmaster. No, that is not someone who creates the website, but the person who leads the hike and takes down all of the spider webs in the early morning for the ladies following behind. I purchased camel backs to hold water, and hiking poles to help my ankles. My women loved hiking, and I enjoyed the inner city trek in the back trails. Hiking became my thing, though helping with dance instruction twice a week and leading hikes I had to be careful to space the exercise out and save my ankles.

The point of this post is to remind you that if you want to do something, if you find something that feeds your soul, you can find a way to do it. I met some incredible women who were tribal women through this adventure. I guess that is also a thing. If you want to friend tribal women,  you must go where they go.

Take a hike!
Love, Pusche