Love’s playful spark permeated Sato
Hill. Four days of my friend and her sweetheart, the ever handy Jamie, who
sealed my roof and did a myriad of honey do’s, went well despite the things
that went wrong.
Tying down the items required to do
the job might have been at tad less problematic. Budding romance energy in my
home of mourning made me feel unbalanced; it tired me. My regular cries took on
melancholy, I could howl like a sad and lonely wolf, but didn’t; my happy
friends blew kisses to each other and shared knowing glances. New love, part of
me enjoyed seeing my friend in that honeymoon phase. The rest of me just ached
to have my love back; who made his
list, went to the store before starting a job, and rarely had to go back. I
miss that. I miss my honey.
My friend in love to distraction
left her clothes at home first trip to my house, the second trip she left a green
bag of food on her carport. Watching her made me giggle like a school girl, so
it’s all good. Her guy with sparkling personality sang to her, they flirted
with each other. I liked the positive energy even if I felt out of sync with
it.
On Saturday I shared my best face
mask with the divine Ms. M it was like a spa day, until she answered the door
in her green mud pack; how mortified she was to be seen like this. Why am I
smiling?
My dear friend helped me so much,
she’s an angel. Jamie did a very big job. He cleaned up one mighty mess.
Maintenance of cement roofs in the tropics is essential for health, mine was
overdue.
I’m blessed with wonderful people
in my life; thank God for so many gifts. I’m scared and feel unworthy. My
head hurts from input overload. My darling isn’t coming back; that seems so
wrong. It’s a good thing that personal tragedy doesn’t throw the earth off its
axis.
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