My feelings about being in my mother’s house changed this last trip. I don’t know if it is because the house is beginning to resemble the home I remember from my and my children’s childhood, inviting and pretty and not so cluttered, or if it’s because I have worked through all the emotions of grief. I just don’t know. What I do know is that for the first time, I was sad to leave. Not that I didn’t want to get home and sleep in my own comfy bed, I surely did, but more because I know my time spent there is coming to an end.
The one thing I haven’t done much of lately is promoting my book, Rhyaden. For some reason, the events of last fall, losing Mom and my sister, changed me and my goals. The book is on its own and that doesn’t work very well in today’s market place. My desire to get out there and sell the book has evaporated. My desire to publish again has evaporated. I am working on Compass Point, slowly, and I want it to be my best ever writing, but I have no plans to sell it. It will be my tribute to my dad, and that’s that.
Spending time with my fast growing grandchildren is too important to lose any opportunity, as is spending time with and helping my kids when possible. Turning my house and garden into my haven has become far more important than taking the time to market Rhyaden. For all the plans and all the work prior to last fall, that seems like throwing in the towel. I suppose it is, but I don’t seem to care. I have changed. In this one area, at least, I am consistent. Life changing us is the one thing we can count on.