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