Ode to a little white cottage...

The little white cottage is cramped with boxes everywhere.  Boxes topping one another, boxes filling up hallways and rooms.  Some of the draperies have been taken down already, and every cupboard in the kitchen has been emptied out.  The house feels different.  Quiet, or quieter than usual, and it’s sending out messages to me.  When you walk through it, you can hear the little echoes of your footsteps going before and about you, and what’s left behind you is this peculiar feeling of emptiness, and melancholy cramming every dear space.  As if the very bones of the house were crying out to me. Is that what ghosts feel? 

  

But maybe… maybe is not the house sending out all those messages, but instead it is my soul already feeling the separation? Parting from this house, and having to give it away to strangers its painting the landscape of my heart in dark blues and shadowy colors.  Whatever it is, it is sad.  It is sad to say goodbye to this dear little place that has seen me blossomed through my days, as I myself has seen it coming to its full beauty through my love and labor since the day I arrived.  A place where I’ve lived many a happy day. 

 But the worse of all… it has to be the garden...  

I have been taking down every little thing, every ornament I had ever made, or found, and brought to the garden... all the little stories that go with them too, with every stone brought in, every pebble, every seed, and the walls look bared without them, and cold, and there’s a most noticeable loneliness, and disarray all around.  The air carry in its wings the sound of my name…

It is all part of the typical despondency of autumn, and autumnal days, I’m sure.  But this time it is more than that.  I am leaving behind some of the best years of my life.  The years I’d lived here, the people I have loved here, the memories I have made here, with love and tenderness and hope.  

  

A single, solitary butterfly followed me around today as I cleaned fountains and birdbath... 

I felt the strangest of kinship with her… as if she was a person I connected with… or someone I knew, or had known somewhere.  I guess this is what happens went you have to live alone for weeks and have enough time on your hands to really be aware of life… for that, I am thankful, and blessed.

My handyman Oscar came by last evening and fixed all things that needed be fixed… old drawers from old dressers that needed mending, loose nuts and bolts on chairs and tables and such.  Then he left and didn’t charge me a penny.   I insisted on paying him, but he wouldn’t take my money.  It was his way of repaying grace, and a gentle silent ‘thank you’ for our trust and generosity all these years.  I am going to miss my neighbors and those who have always said yes whenever I’d needed them.  I will have to find a new handyman at the house in the roses to help me around with all the things I need to do there, but I’m afraid it won’t be easy.

I am leaving all my pretty chandeliers to the new owner of our little white cottage, including the aqua ones I made… I remember the day I came home with the first one, the painting job, the baking of the delicate vases, then came the other one and dear old Manuel installing them.  How very happy I felt back then—joy running through my veins as evening came and lovely lights were turned on…

  

I remember painting the inside of the cabinets in the kitchen, and how I loved that color, and I remember, too, the day when the hardwood floors were installed in the dining room, and the day when the Home Depot guys came with the beautiful white granite and the countertops were finally installed, and I remember that night when, by 8:30pm my handyman was still working on the backsplash, so that I could be able to wake up the following day to a new, beautiful kitchen.  Little stories.  Little moments.  Little joys.  And can you believe this lady who’s buying our house is still insisting on keeping my curtains too?

The garden is going to miss me. This I know. Weeds are growing rampant, vines are dying away.  There will be so much to do come next spring!  Would it be taken care of, or would it fade away and become part of the woods, just as it was before I came?  Even the fishes… I will have to leave them behind.  Would the new owner’s dogs go splash in the pond, and scare them away, and would they trudge through flowerbeds and stomp on precious flowers?  Why do I care, or should I care?  I am going back to my garden.  My first love.  I shall bring it back to its full glory, and I shall plant another lilac tree, and my friends the mourning doves would come to say hi and welcome me home.

I can hardly wait.  The painters will start working on the house on November first, then will be the hardwood floors on our master bedroom… I have so much to do, so much to look forward to! So much to share with you!  But that’s for another post.  For now, I’ll be content with what I have and what I’ve been blessed with and all I have to do… one day at a time.

Love you all!