I having the first guest in my house next weekend. I have been working on preparing the upstairs where she will be sleeping. I am the only person that has ever slept up there and I did that because my groovey waterbed sprung a leak.
I think that was a couple of years ago. Grieving the loss of a relationship, depressed and menopausal I have no concept of time it could have been three years. I will have to check my blog to be sure. Pretty pathetic but at least I can laugh about it now.
When I go up there it feels really oppressive. It is full of things from the past which are still useful but don't necessary go together. Some things I keep for sentimental reasons others because it seems wasteful to just get rid of them.
The friend that is coming to visit will not understand the sentimental part related to stuff. She has been on the move all her life and told me once that her first thought when she acquires something is how will she get rid of it.
She has had commitment issues but strangely enough she told me last week she is getting married. Progress for her I think. I will be happy to hear the details.
When I go upstairs it reveals a lot of things to me. First it reminds of my past the things that represent something or someone that is no longer in my life. That's it, writing those words brought emotion. The tears are about the life that I am no longer a part of a dream that has been washed away.
It also reminds me of how sick I have been the past four years. Just barely able to get through each day. I feel like I have recovered from a long illness in that space and I want to do something drastic to erase the memory of past. There is just a bigger dose of it upstairs more relics.
It makes me mad that this still bothers me after all this time. It is a process I know but at least I know why I am feeling this way, but is always surprises me. Everything heals in time if you let it.