 |
| The handle to the barn door at the Maine house |
...with the new Maine property. It makes leaving this Apifera much easier. I've actually done most of my hardest mourning, when I had to figure out if I could bring my sheep, or when I began telling people. Martyn is just beginning to tell clients and he admitted he is now going through some mourning. He's lived in Oregon his entire 57 years. But he is so excited. The opportunities for him there, the new house that we don't have to redo [for a change!], the land, the nearby ocean, water everywhere for my fisherman...it's all worth the temporary upheaval.
While Martyn goes off to his business, I take care of the myriad of details of the move. In a way, this is good, I am good at it and I think it allows Martyn to simply work and not get anxious about the many details involved. Things are falling into place.
Today I was at the kitchen and looked out the window and saw a morning dove on the branch. It was calling out with its cooing. I haven't seen one for awhile and said,
"Kelly?"
You might recall my mother, Kelly, returned as a morning dove immediately after she died in 2013, and a tulip, but I used to hang on every dove I saw back when she died knowing it was her checking in on me. It gave me comfort. As I grew stronger, I would see doves and didn't always relate them to my mother, some were simply...doves. But this dove, it was so close to the window and was sitting so calmly looking in at me, I'm sure it was her.
It was her.
I know the pieces of the move, the selling, buying, hauling animals-all of it–have been clipping right along. I think she wants to get us there sooner than later. I think she knows our lives will be enriched in many ways and we will be able to do a lot of things we can't do here-more relaxed times, hiking the woods, visiting the small villages, making more art and letting Martyn have more of a time off period instead of working 24/7.
I guess I was thinking that the new house in Maine...maybe it had a lot of mothers in it, because it already feels like a comfort to me, it feels like it is accepting us as we are, and is there to shelter us. I've lived in many houses and not all of them were mothers. I feel like there is a energy in that house that will wrap itself around us like a mother wearing a wool sweater opening up the door on a windy, winter day.
I do not take this lightly–with all that has transpired since we listed our property here, that house came into our lives on purpose, with intent.
