Windowsill

My computer faces a window in this new house just as it did in my old house. The view today is still snow on the ground and icicles hanging from the rooftop, dripping themselves into oblivion. I've been terribly homesick the last few days. I think that I was so busy making sure David was happy (which he hasn't been, but that's an entirely different story and one I can't bear to discuss here) that I never gave myself time to slow down enough to mourn what I left behind. The house I left behind, still with no regrets, was so intensely mine. I worked so hard to create my sanctuary there in the middle of the trees. I miss the solitude of it much more than I expected I would. Perhaps our struggles of late have been only adjustments of two people who have lived alone for several years and become accustomed to complete control and autonomy within their own lives. Granted, I have two children, so I have never been "alone" for long...but I have been the one to set the pace of my life for myself and my kids...trying to accomodate someone else who is not very accomodating himself has been heartwrenchingly difficult at times. I've behaved badly and so has he. I keep telling myself that this is all part of the adjustment period. That's all I can tell myself some days, because I don't know what else to say about it. But today, I look out my window and yearn for familiar oaks, my oaks. The oak in my front yard here is tall and stately, an aging prima ballerina. My oaks at home were like old drunken grannies, bent over and clogging their way across my yard...much less diginified, but a hell of a lot more personable. It's been so long since I've lived with anyone; I don't remember it being this hard. Then again, hard is what I do best. I am bred to bloom under the worst conditions; even this bone-chilling cold that's come inside my house when I wasn't looking will not keep me from making my place here.