Farm life has me up and doing things at the ungodly hour of “0 Dark Thirty”. Things like feeding the farm cats. When I first got here, I was awakened at 8:00 by what I was certain was someone trying to break in the house…first the back door, then the front. I snuck into the living room and, with great trepidation, pulled back the curtain on the front door only to find a very hungry cat glaring at me at eye height…her claws gripping the screen. I think they are plotting to kill me by loving me to death. Another delightful little task on the farm is taking the trash out at 5:30am on Wednesdays to keep the raccoons and possums out of it. You have not lived till you hear the sweet barn cat out on the porch eating the food you left a few minutes before only to go out and come face-to-face with a possum the size of a Buick. That gives aerobics a new meaning.
As I stood in the kitchen yesterday, contemplating how a self-proclaimed road princess like me found herself living in an old drafty house in a shady little holler with possums and coons and fleas, I waited patiently for my coffee to brew. As I leaned against the sink, I looked to my right and noticed the door frame had a little piece sawed away. My eyes ran up the frame and found a matching place about six inches from the top of the door and I smiled with a memory.
When I was a very little girl, this house did not have indoor plumbing. As a matter of fact, it didn’t even sit where it is now. It used to be farther back from the road when my uncle and great-grandfather built a basement, put in plumbing, and rolled the house down on pipes to the new foundation. Before the move, and the new kitchen sink, the door hinges were on the other side opening from right to left. Consequently, the screen opened in the same direction. I was only six or seven years old when it switched, but fifty years later I was still reaching for the handle of the screen door on the right instead of the left.
Life after loss is a lot like that. Things have been moved on us. I go to pick up the phone every Sunday night to call mom and check in. I see something funny and think of texting Mr. Virgo to tell him. I turn over in bed and reach out to find…emptiness…more often than I care to admit. Someone moved our stuff. Someone changed our lives. It doesn’t break my heart like it used to. Now it’s more like, “Oh, yeah…right. He’s gone.” and I move on. Most of the time, anyway.
Seeing those marks where the old hinges were reminded me that I can learn how to open doors with the other hand. I can change and still go in and out. I’m not trapped anymore.
❤️
“Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you.””
Deuteronomy 31:6 ESV