This is our house in Peckerwood Holler. It was going to be our jumping off place to go exploring in the beautiful Missouri Ozarks. As I was sitting on my porch at home today, the sounds of the birds around me and the cicadas singing slammed me in the chest and took my mind to my Peckerwood Porch. The porch he built for me. The place where we loved listening to the sounds of the forest.
I've had a wonderful weekend with my writer pals from Writing Away Refuge, so this shower of grief was a surprise to me. But there he is, Carmichael, laying on a raft in the pool and shaking his head. Carmichael is my grief, and he is an asshole. I haven't seen him in a long time, but today, he's making my chest hurt. FU Carmichael.
I can't bring myself to go back to Peckerwood, even after all this time. Currently my sweet niece and her family are living there. I know my Tall Man is smiling knowing his niece and great-nephew are enjoying the place we loved so much.
I'm amazed at the impact the sound of the cicadas had on me today. I've heard them calling for weeks and have felt nothing. But today, for some reason the sound is crushing me.
Deep breath, let the tears flow. Just when I think Carmichael is gone for good, he shows up with a vengeance.
Folks, don't feel sorry for me, just cherish your moments with the special people in your lives. And as always, thanks for reading my schmush. I feel the love.
Comentarios