Even before I was fully awake this morning I found my thoughts wandering in the mists of a time long gone. Today was one of those significant milestone days for us, the kind which race towards you with the speed of an express train as you get older, and which will, in the end, overtake you. I wanted to hold on to this reverie and allowed people and situations to rise up, which happened to someone other than the me of today, not the gloomy, fearful me I have been of late. Once upon a time I was convinced of my ability to overcome any obstacle; whatever happened, I'd find a way out; I did not see myself as invincible, but sturdy and strong and as determined to flourish as the hawthorn bush clinging to an inhospitable, stoney bank.
Recently my thoughts have dwelt on the difficulties that lie ahead. It seems that the future is shrouded in a fog of uncertainty; we talk but cannot come to a decision about what to do for the best. Our house is bigger than two people need, and I can manage neither house nor garden without help. Regular, permanent help is both expensive and a nuisance, relying on others has never been easy for either of us. Beloved has had to hand in his driving licence. Although I am glad that he isn't driving, it has come as a shock. We knew that his sight is deteriorating, but now it's official, real.
An estate agent has given us a figure for the house and told us that, due to its location, it is eminently saleable. What she doubted was that we'd find anything comparable in a smaller size and a similar situation. We are quiet and secluded and just five minutes away from the centre of the village. Not to mention the castle in the back garden. (The header picture of this blog shows our house and the window on the far right is my study window, where I am sitting at this moment, typing this post). We only bought this house because of its situation.
There is, of course, a further problem with moving. Divorce, a death in the family and moving house are the three most common contributory factors towards a heart attack. So, round and round we go on the merry-go-round of what to do, what to do.
This morning my reverie brought illumination: we'll do nothing at all for the moment. Every time we look around us, we see how very desirable life here still is and how much we would miss the freedom we have become accustomed to. No noise, no traffic, unlimited access to open spaces, a friendly village and a wonderful landscape to lift the heart. I must learn to accept my limitations - Beloved already has -, and act accordingly; I must stop fretting; fear of the future won't help, facing up to problems and dealing with them as and when they arise is what the old me would have done, perhaps I can rediscover and reanimate traces of her even now.
There, the gloom is beginning to lift already.