Ashes to ashes

Depression came calling this past week. Knocking gently, attempting to embrace me while whispering sweet words about not knowing the future and regretting the past. I have a mental picture of this caller: a cartoon figure, all black, wild hair and an embracing smile. Seductive to lie in bed with him for a while…

But I didn’t.

I teetered around the many good reasons to do so, and came back to the best reason of all, which is the reason not to: I am loyal to the commitment I have made and he’s not in the picture.

I went to visit our land on Friday. The burned grass is turning golf-course green, the blossoms are coming, the wisteria is in full, fragrant bloom. Nemo, the incredibly large koi fish, flips lazily in the half-empty pool. The space is lit in familiar sunlight, the views stamped in my brain.

My feet know the land so well; I walk her intimately and at home in the steps I take across her curves.

My paths are burned away. In their place are the wheel marks of the people that have stolen the roofs and doors of the remaining out-buildings. It is so sad - a different kind of desolation. My land waits, as we do, for the next part of the story.

The children and I make dream lists for what we need in order to give meaning to each one of us in our next home: space, light, colour, views, place to keep pets, place to kick a ball, big windows, a small school.

It seems so hard to place this part of the dream anywhere on the map, because each placement has a long list of pros and cons, so instead, we leave the big picture to unfold without our clumsy attempts at control and work instead with five things that we each need to feel fulfilled. This will be our new core, wherever we go, we shall meet these basic requirements.

Father is still, but his list will be there too. He is paging through picture books of gorgeous homes and dreaming a perfect space.

So I shall continue to refuse to sift through the ashes of what was, I shall lie quietly and accept that sometimes I am so sad and often I feel lost. I shall not even mourn the loss of the positive surge that carried me so far from the fire. I shall be here now, eating chocolate, catching moments in the sun and staying fully present.

Because right now, we have all that we need.