story – Hydrangeas Blue

Alone at Christmas? You’re Not Alone

I’ve written before about how little family I have, and how holidays equal family. I mean, after all, isn’t that what the holidays are all about? Except for Easter. Which is all about the Easter Bunny. (Just kidding.)

This is what I have done to get ready for Christmas. Nearly nothing. I have not bought one gift. I bought two cards to send to my kids whom I won’t see. I bought a small turkey breast yesterday which my son may smoke on his grill, like he did on Thanksgiving.

For the first time in my life, the only tree I have is the same small one I bought years ago when we had lost our home and everything was packed away. It was the first year we had no money, and I can’t even remember what I was able to buy for the kids. I liked that little tree and it came with me from house to house as I moved around New Hampshire.

After that first poor year, I was on my own and bought a larger fake tree because of my son. I still tried to make Christmas Christmassy for the sake of my kids, but I have never really been able to feel the same excitement I used to have. And eventually it simply became a dreaded chore. Continue reading “Alone at Christmas? You’re Not Alone”

Moving Again, Taking a Time Out

I began this blog with the hope of sharing my gardening experience, like so many normal people do. But I am not normal. Or should I say, my life is not normal. By this time, I am probably a little off my rocker as well.

After closing on my new home just the other day, (it was delayed because of Hurricane Matthew, which didn’t surprise me a bit) I now have to face moving again. I am not young. There is a household of items to move, as well as a storage unit full. It will be up to me and my two sons to do all the heavy lifting. On the bright side, this keeps me fit. I am stronger than the typical sixty-year old woman, for sure.

Recently I counted up the times I had moved in my life and came to the extraordinary number of 14. I look forward to living in a nice home, and hopefully the last I will ever live in. It’s not anything fabulous, but it will be comfortable. Anyone who has moved to a new place knows that it takes time to get settled in, and I hate that I will have to waste more of my life doing that, one more time.

Many – no ALL – of my friends (or, past friends, I should say) are settled in life. People my age own homes that are paid off. They are not just now signing up for a 30-year mortgage! They have fun. Many of them spend time traveling and visiting their kids the grandkids. They go to weddings, go out to dinner, have parties, take vacations, and share stories of their fantastic lives on their FaceBook pages. They live. They have normal lives.

They live the kind of life I always expected to have in my later years. Why not expect that? But, for me, it went the other way. This is mainly why they are “past friends”. I have nothing in common with my old friends these days. And I can’t expect them to understand. I only visit FaceBook because I have a Store Page there, for my business. Yes, I will be working until I die. No retirement and slowing down for me.

I accept my lot in life. What else can I do? My posts here have become depressing, even for me, so I apologize. Soon, I hope to have some photos and info about building raised garden beds. I plan to have a few on my new property. That will make me feel more normal. In the meantime, I will be packing.

Remembering Life in New England

winter forest photography — My Backyard – Long Ago

This winter photography recently sold in my Zazzle store as a postcard. It seems fitting as a reminder of how far I’ve come. Since I am no longer living in the northeastern U.S., and back down in the humidity of Florida, this scene makes me a bit sad. I was born in New England, and I love it there.

I took this winter photo back in 2007, and it reminds me of great hope and huge loss. After spending 27 years in the humid, bug-infested south, I was back home in New England and loving every moment of my first winter with snow in years. I took pictures every day I think. This is a scene from my back yard after a nice storm had passed. I say “nice” because it dropped a bunch of that sparkling white stuff I had been longing to play in and witness. I wanted a white Christmas, and New Hampshire nearly always cooperated in the eleven years I lived there. I love the change of seasons and winter is part of it. It’s a long season, but we are all in it together, and somehow get through the worst ones.

We had moved together as a family, but ultimately I ended up alone, with a son dependent upon me to provide a decent life. I couldn’t take a little boy away from his father, no matter how much that father lacked the qualities to actually be a father. So I stuck it out until my son graduated and wanted to move away. Then it was his choice. I did my part. But it wasn’t easy getting by alone in a place known for it’s costly living expenses. By the time I left my New Hampshire home, I had moved 5 times, finally settling into a little fixer-upper for my final years there.

The beautiful snow had lost it’s charm after the hellish winter of 2014-15. And my final winter had very little drama – or snow. It was okay with me.

I’ll never live in New England again, short of winning the lottery. I have some pictures left that remind me of the great hope in my heart when I moved there. The opportunity to spend time in such a beautiful place one last time, is what I will be thankful for. And I’ll visit when I can. But I may never see such a beautiful winter scene in person again. Nor will I walk in the deep snow and enjoy the silence of snowy woods. But I did it once. And that was good.