Stuck at Home, Such As It Is

Inspirational song: Lonesome Loser (Little River Band)

Two things are starting to sink in for me now. First, we are actually here to stay, and we get to see the beautiful mountains every day, breathe that sweet prairie smell all the time, and see our local family and friends whenever we want. Second, we are actually here to stay, and it will be months before we get to visit the Low Country again, to feel the warm ocean air, and see our beloved Bonfire family and my mah jongg ladies again. The first week of the move was overwhelmingly stressful and I didn't have time to dwell on these things. Life has slowed a bit, now that one house is under contract to sell and another is under contract to buy. The next four weeks are going to pass painfully slowly, and I have plenty of time to feel lonely and grieve for the life I left behind. A lot of crazy things were happening in the greater Charleston area before I left, that garnered awful national notoriety. But that doesn't define the experience I had there for the last four years. I was happy there. I felt like I fit in. I spoke with a southern accent, and I don't plan on giving that up, y'all. I ate glorious comfort food and gained three sizes before I finally went grain free and stopped the expansion. I loved how the humidity made my skin soft and hair wavy. I became an expert on showy warm-climate flower gardens. My interior decorating sense grew up and became comfortable in rarified air. I discovered sweet tea bourbon. I loved Charleston and I loved the people I met there.

I love Colorado too, and I am glad that Mister Smith-Park has finally come home to his mountains. One of these days I'd like to go up to his mining claim with him again. He reminds me every time that I am not yet in fit hiking form, that I won't want to sleep on the ground, or leave the cats overnight, or even try to hike out at night with my terrible night vision. These things are true, but I swear, if Murray can drag himself and his wheelchair up by his hands, I should be able to walk in and out of there in a single day.

The man is up on the claim tonight, sending home pictures of campfires and dogs and baby bunnies rescued from the mouths of those same dogs (well, one anyway), and I am going to hang out in the brick oven, nursing an amaretto while I talk with one of my girlfriends and think about how much I miss the others. Where's that lottery win so I can just consolidate all my chosen family into one tidy location whenever I want?