Or, Life after Death pt. 3
There is no noise. The trees are laden with snow. Sometimes I can hear the refrigerator running. And, sometimes I can hear my thoughts.
My adorable husband has been gone almost 2 years. 2 years! Looking back, the first year was a blur, though unbeknownst to me. There were bills to pay, he wasn’t the best money manager, my name to change, preferring my father’s name. Wills to be rewritten, next of kin notifications thrust on my two adult children. Little daily chores to navigate through.
Fortunately, he wasn’t a great help around the farm so doing chores was pretty much unchanged. I have some very good friends, that odd married couple where you love them both, and sometimes it worries me what one of them would do without the other. They are a team when it comes to chores on their farm.
I missed the awesome Christmas present I did not receive that first Christmas. Second Christmas my own family was rediscovered as time was spent on my time frame.
Slowly, I realised there was no one to whom I was beholden except a pack of dogs, a cat, and a horse. While they don’t like it when I am gone, they love me just the same when I get home. Well, perhaps not the mare, she doesn’t care as long as she gets her meals.
One day, I was discussing working to make my farm even more environmentally useful, my farm. It was the first time in many years. Not our farm, with my children, or husbands. My farm. The kids can have it later.
I am glad I changed back to my maiden name. It makes it easier to be me. Now, I wander through the woods when I want, take on part-time work when I want, visit friends when I want, even just throw the cat in the car and take a road trip when I want. As long as we get back in time to feed the dogs.
I do miss dancing in the kitchen with him, but put Mamma Mia on my headphones and I can dance all I want without inhibition,
Self Employed Again 