Crescent Moon and other Ramblings

 "There are traces of him everywhere, but nothing for her to focus on.  Nothing to hold on to."

Erin Morgenstern, Night Circus

The other day I found myself thinking "I am a crescent moon."  Which sounds very poetic, but it also describes how I feel.  When I had Bob, I was part of a fat figure 8 - the Venn diagram of the two of us.

If I were able to do any computer art at all (much less on Blogger, which is pretty uncooperative sometimes) I would of course have them labelled "Bob", "Ann," and "Bob and Ann" in the middle, and there would be a lot more overlap because we had been together since we were teenagers.  And with his part missing, I was the wee crescent on the left (why the left, I don't know, but it feels right).  Hopefully, I'm waxing, getting more comfortable with who I am now.  I did notice that while I did have my wistful moments repairing the mailbox and especially working on the chicken coop that it would have been damned nice to have him there, I didn't get the punched-in-the-gut feeling of "it shouldn't be my job" that I always used to have.  Because such things are my job now.  (side note - the chicken yard is done, I think.  Suzie and Ashlyn are coming out Sunday to inspect it.)

After all my busyness of the last couple of months, I can feel myself starting to break a little.  Too many final anniversaries.  March 18 - which was supposed to be the day by which we saw a tick up in his neutrophils, and nothing happened (originally it was by the 11th, and then the 15th, and then the 18th).  The doctor said -"it's being a little slow, but by the 25th at the outside."  That was the day that when we were finally alone for a few minutes he yelled "They keep moving the damned goalpost."  Tomorrow, the 23rd, is a really hard day.  That was the day I turned to him after the doctor's visit and said "I don't think there is a Plan C."  The day we accepted that he wasn't likely to make it.  I can't imagine that it will ever cease to hurt.

But it's too soon to quit.  Like last year, I'm allowing myself to stop for 2-3 days (28th - 30th).  I will lay in a supply of rum, sweets, and junk food and just quit.  But I have to keep going until then.  Because Suzie and Ashlyn will be here Sunday and I'd like to show them around, I got the cottage tidied up today, and I'll get the back room done tomorrow (so they can meet the flying squirrel)

I was going to write about the barn, and how it feels - but maybe in the next post.  I'll end with a couple of pictures.

The winter of '22 was rough - we had several days where even the highs didn't get above freezing.  The rest of the country can laugh, but Florida people, animals (in central Florida the iguanas fall out of the trees), and plants aren't designed for the cold.  My poor lemon tree took a beating despite being swathed in sheets, so I didn't get any blooms or lemons last year.  But now there are a few blossoms showing up (Bob loved the scent of lemon blossoms - when we took our walks he would always pause and just breathe when we passed the tree).

And another shot from the laptop camera.  People who have dogs say that they are great for getting you to get up, because they need to go outside to potty or play or take a walk and will pester you.   Cats, on the other hand . . . .