Another September; a Different Season

September again, the third without him. In my old normal, I would have been planning for our semi-annual trip to Lancaster; the Autumn trip with pumpkins on the vine, tobacco being harvested, corn fields tall, the "Maize Maze" open for business. I would have been planning the closet switch, putting away my light summer clothes, and taking out my long sleeve shirts, my hoodies, my warm pants.

This year, even the closet switch has gone away. as I sit in always warm south Florida, where "winter" means the temperature has dipped under 85, I'm here for eleven months now; eleven months of my life spinning in a vortex, My little condo is beginning to be home. I have a Florida driver's license, and the Soul boasts Florida plates that read "Palm Beach County." The pool is open virtually every day. I'm part of a vibrant, actiive parish family, where I get to utilize my skills and talents.

It's a life I never imagined. I know Nick would have hated the condo; he would never have traded his beloved back yard for this life. But "I had to let it happen, I had to change." I couldn't stay there without him, with the house reminding me with every step of what was gone.

It's hard to live here without him, too. But here, at least everything I do is not tinged with memories. Going to Publix is different than going to Giant. Going to St. Vincent Ferrer is different than going to St. Mary of the Mount. Going to bed...well, at least the bedroom is different.

Happy is a distant memory. What passes for happy now is a shadow, a Plato's Cave version of itself. I plod along, one foot in front of the other, because what else is there to do? And I channel Edna St. Vincent Milay: "Life goes on. I forget just why."