Saturdays are for cleaning house. I decided since I cleaned my kitchen cabinets last weekend, today was the day for the bathroom ones. Thankfully there aren’t nearly as many. I really do need to paint them. My house is so dated. But I just know I’ll bite off more than I can chew and get mad at myself for undertaking such a task.

Angela sent me some spring rolls from her pedicurist (yes, I know exactly how weird that sounds) and a scarf she made for Chessie, very sweet. I hung my new wreath on the inside of my door since it was too poufy for the outside side. I’m not opposed; it will last longer this way, plus I get to admire it more.

After I got my cleaning done, my brain evidently decided to reset and I thought it was magically Sunday. 🤦‍♀️ I’m so glad it isn’t!! I called my aunt and made plans to go put up her tree tomorrow, because if I don’t do it, she won’t put it up, and then I’ll feel guilty. But I know she’ll wrap me in for the whole evening, so I have to get mentally prepared for that.

Writing prompt: what positive events have taken place in your life over the past year?
Why is it my mind said, “Well, not as many as there were negative ones”?
It started off decent enough; I was in Bowling Green for the ringing in of the new year, so that was fun. I’m scrolling through my pictures to see what all bright spots there were. I know how it shook out, which is less than ideal, but there have been some good memories. Like when I went to Loco Burro for their glorious buffet one Sunday morning with the Finchums and then we drove around West Knoxville looking at all the snow. Or Valentine’s Day, when Blackhorse was running a special of rainbow trout, creme brulee, and French martinis. It was quite the night, sitting there at my little table, looking out at all the couples who were made very uncomfortable just by my solo presence.
I only went on local trips this year, the only time I was out of state was the two times to see Kevin. Oh, and to run to Georgia with JA to pick up that horse trailer. I guess the furthest away from home I got was Columbia.
I drank a lot and spent a lot of time with my dog and John Alan.
I killed one snake, but I tried to kill two.
I read good books and I read awful ones.
I experienced love, and I experienced heartache, and I brought it all on myself. I have yet to decide if I’d do it differently, looking back. Things happen for a reason. I knew how it was going to go before I ever started. People always get hurt. But people are also overly confident. And that is where catastrophe breeds. At least I’ve been honest with myself. I can still look myself in the eye and I’m not ashamed. I can admit to myself when I’ve been happy, and when I’ve not. And I know when to change things, so I can develop into the person I want to be. I know not to put my key to happiness in anybody else’s pocket. This is why I have not been heartbroken. And I will try my best never to be, again. Heartbreak is when you love fully, and you give your heart completely away, and that person doesn’t appreciate the gift it is and they take it, and over time -or maybe in one fell swoop- they destroy it. And no matter how much tape and glue you use, it’ll never be the same again.
This is why I cannot be broken. I’ve already shattered once.
Heartbreak is when you cannot sleep, you cannot eat, you cannot see a way through. You need someone there holding your hand and helping you, telling you what the world requires of you next. You take showers sitting down because it’s too much effort to stand. Heartbreak is when you cannot read, you cannot watch TV, you cannot listen to music, because you are so raw and emotional and it all leads to the one thing you don’t want to think about. You honestly cannot see a way through, and even if you could, you don’t want to.
THAT is heartbreak. So, no, I was spared heartbreak this year. But only because I knew it was coming.
I spread my Uncle’s ashes, finally, alone at the Clinch, as it should have been.
I sweated my way through summer: on my porch, at the lake, at the fair. I nursed a severely hurt leg and depended on Angela more than I should.
I finally threw out a bunch of memorabilia and got rid of my wedding dresses. I purged an entire closet full of clothes.
I reconnected with an old college friend.
I cooked, I cried, I laughed, I loved, I worked, I helped, I prayed.
I prayed some more.
And I’m still here, praying. Hoping for a better year. But I know that it will be what I make of it. And I have to keep searching myself for the truth. You can’t let things just happen to you and be satisfied with the outcome. You have to make things happen so you choose your destiny. I’m not going to sit around wishing someone would bring me cookies. No, I have to buy the ingredients and bake them myself. Someone may eventually bring me cookies, but I’m not willing to wait for that happiness when I can create my own joy.
I hope that you already knew this, and I’m the one who was late to the party. I hope hopeless romantics are given some hope in the next year. But as a hopeless romantic such as myself knows, true love doesn’t come around very often. I guess I’m on schedule for 2028. I’ll just be floating along until then.

Love from Appalachia,
~Amy