Why do I feel guilty?

Guilt is a strange thing. It sneaks into your life with the little things, things like rearranging the furniture.

The Lord of the Manor needed a wheelchair. Chemotherapy saved his life back in 2006, but it left his bones weak and his spine slowly collapsing on itself. It was the hand he was dealt and we made accommodations as his condition deteriorated. 

Sharing a home with a housemate is never easy. He wants the sofa on the east wall. You want the sofa on the north wall. You want a 37" TV and he wants a 50" TV. You win some, you lose some, and the price of a big screen makes the decision for you. 

Since Ron's passing, I've been in a nesting mode. When we got together, he moved into my house. We spent thirty years together and we made a lot of compromises. Now I seem to be reclaiming my spaces and reflecting this new, single woman in my choices. It's nothing over the top, but it's "me" without having to allow for another's taste. 

So why do I feel guilty? For over a decade, the furniture was arranged against the walls so he could maneuver through the house. We didn't have any rugs down so he wouldn't get stuck on the edges. Now I have large area rugs down and the dog loves it. He was afraid of the hard floors because his paws would slide, but Ron's needs came first, as they should have and they did.

Now the furniture has been arranged to my liking. It defines the spaces in the great room and I like it. I like it a lot. And I feel guilty because I like it so much. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor/The Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, guilt, rural living, country lifestyle, a writer's life, loss of spouse, home decor, area rugs, defining spaces, Labrador Retriever, widowhood 

Here and gone - Tropical Depression Debby

Hurricane Debby was a tropical storm by the time it reached us. The radar map looked scary, but while the sprawling storm brought a lot of rain, at my location there was very little wind. For that I am grateful.

The weather broadcasts I watched frightened me. This was the first major round of dangerous weather since Ron passed back in March. My head knew that even if he were still with us, damage control would fall on me. Knowing that didn't ease my mind any. I prepared for the worst and got the generator ready.

The rains came, slow and steady. Over Wednesday night and all day Thursday, I waited for the sump pump to begin to cycle. It didn't. I knew the ground was dry and the slow, soaking rain was just what we needed to replenish the earth. It was daybreak on Friday before the sump pump cycled, and then it was only for a couple of hours. The power grid coughed up one tiny flicker but stayed on. Deuce, Loki, and I made it through. I'm grateful for the lack of strong winds because there is very little clean-up to do in the woods. 

I weathered the storm in more ways than one. I missed having Ron to talk to and to counsel me, that is to say remind me, to check the basement and use the binoculars to keep an eye on the lane. My friends had more faith than I - only one called to check on me. I'll remember her in my prayers, for sure. 

It's now Saturday and the sky is blue and the sun is shining. It's a steamy August day, and it's easy to forget my worries during the week just past. 

That's what we need to do. Forget and forge ahead. 

The Lady of Holly Tree Manor/The Hideaway

Holly Tree Manor, The Hideaway, Hurricane Debby, dangerous weather, rural living, country lifestyle, a writer's life, survival, generator, fear, worry, forge ahead, rain gauge