Finding ways to live in the changed world...

I am painfully aware of where I live, and of who is not here with me. His laughter no longer fills our home, there are no puzzle pieces left to step on in my bare feet, no morning oatmeal for me to make. My world has changed, but the world around me has not.

In the effort to find my way, I am most comfortable in the cocoon that is our home. It's safe here, and really quite beautiful. Each morning I wake knowing that there are animals depending on me, so I must get out of bed and tend to their needs. I have a lovely garden where there is always something in bloom, and I am hopeful that I will see the butterfly fluttering through wearing it's orange shirt. I find peace in the sound of the water coming from the hose as it hits the ground, and my coffee always tastes better there. 

I am better now at doing simple things that don't require much thought. I am leaving fewer unfinished projects around the house because the sight of them made me feel like a failure, instead of an artist. Because I have become more comfortable among strangers than with people I know, I sign up for things like this class, and yoga. Still, I long for the joy in the things I used to find joy in. I long to find passion in something...anything. I long to find a place in my world that has changed. I was once the leader and now it's suits me to follow. Who is this person that has allowed grief to change her?