Yesterday, it happened. Spring has sprung. It was in the seventies.
It was warm when I went to church. It was warmer when I came out. I worked out for an hour and when I walked out of the gym, it was warmer yet.
It was a good day to be outside. Tim and I turned over the dirt in our garden. It is good rich dirt. We have a supply of very aged mulch to use for the cucumber hills and to make a pumpkin patch for William. It felt good to be outside and working.
We went to the new house to look around. The neighbor was out taking advantage of the nice weather too so we walked across the little stone and earth bridge that connects the two properties. Turns out we know these people.
I love the house I'm in, and I never ever want to move, but Tim is very excited about this house. It's on the edge of the woods. It has a garage for him to work in. He has all these plans.
In a very secret part of my heart it has occurred to me that this little house will be perfect for him one day if he were ever to be left alone. Our house would be way too big for one person to rattle around alone in. I think that it would also be hard to live in a house that is so full of "us".
It' a strange way to think. My mind always heads off in that direction when I have that yearly visit to the cancer center looming on the horizon, and in part, that is why I simply caved after hearing Tim talk about this house for weeks.
It's a bit like insurance, I guess. We may never need it, but it's good to know that it's there.
We went to the grocery store to get groceries for the week. While we were standing in line, we chatted with Wilma, who Tim and I worked with back when we first met working in a factory that no longer exists. While we were talking with Wilma, I looked over and two lines away, I see another one of the people from that company. I said hi to John. Within seconds, I saw Rich, the fellow that hired me to work there. Makes me smile. I needed the job desperately, truth be told, but I had no idea that the job would change my life.
While we were all blabbing, I recognized yet another voice. One of our old tenants was the cashier, and I had not even recognized her. Wilma laughed. "That's a sign you're getting old, honey!" and I told her to shush, with a twisted up face, and we all had another hearty laugh as she swept out the door.
By that time, another woman from church came up to chat. She discovered that we live two doors down from a house that she owns.
The cashier said, "Don't forget your purse!" We had come from the garden. I did not have a purse with me. I recognized that it was Wilma's.
I darted out the door with it, and I found her in the parking lot. "Talk about getting old!" I said, and she laughed at me, wondering what I was going to say next. I said nothing, but held up her purse. Her laugh changed to a horrified look. "Oh, gees!" she gasped. I handed over her purse and we had one final chuckle.
Tim came along and said, "Let's go home," and so we did.