Blowing Wind

Ah, the winds of change. My son who lives with me is considering his own place closer to nature. I’m replacing my 20 year old golf clubs. I sent my big BBQ pit to Houston to live with my oldest son. My daughter and her family are getting ready to move to the east coast. I can feel the center of my universe shifting. My current home has become a place where I lived and now live. It is no longer a shrine to a marriage, and the idea of selling has crossed my mind.

It is indeed my Guadalupian period, the period that started when I came down from Guadalupe Peak last year and felt that I had crossed over into a new place. My aneurysm is repaired, and my body feels whole. My mind is still a mess. Nighttime is the worst. The hole left by the departure of my wife becomes a yawning chasm. The companionship I lost has been replaced by a hodge podge of relationships that swim in and out of focus. In the dark, I try to make sense of it all until sleep overcomes me.

But my new period gives me hope. I’ve swum in new waters before. Changed schools. Changed jobs. Lost loves. Suffered disappointments. But if life and nature has taught me anything, it is this. I’ve walked on my own two legs before. Change means opportunity. And most relationships are matters of convenience, some more lasting than others, and success or failure is mostly a matter of luck. All you can do is your best, and the rest is up to providence.