Things are mending. There is hope next door.
Karl and I hauled large bags and five-gallon buckets to the dumpster at work this week. The pile of broken plaster, cement marbles and fluffy insulation at the top of the driveway is somewhat smaller.
The katydids are calling their scratchy echo out in the woods. Coming in from the big garden today, I saw the little woodchuck in my front yard — in the grass that’s three weeks grown. I stood about 15 feet from him and talked to him until he turned and moseyed under the wild rosebushes. Later tonight, as I talked to Dar on the phone, I spotted the brown bunny in the front yard nibbling away on grass. The rain we had for two or three days running has made everything flourish again.
I had a long talk with Rose yesterday — I had to leave work early for a haircut, so went to her office after that. “There has been a sea-change,” she wrote to me. “I really need to talk to you.” She was done with patients for the day, so we were uninterrupted. I met the new doctor — Josh is on the verge of retirement and is there just as a go-to now, and not for long — and he seems very nice. Rose had received an unexpected job offer last week from a prominent gastrointerologist in town, who wanted to hire her based on her reputation alone. She was named Pro Health’s top nurse practitioner last year. She could have written a little easier ticket, maybe ease the work load somewhat or rearrange her hours. She was tempted but in the end said no. I think it was enough that the offer came in, that she was recognized. I think, though, that leaving her beloved coworkers — and an office already under transition — was a thought she couldn’t stand, on top of the thought of leaving Karl. Everything had started to feel really crazy. In the end she said to K, I can’t keep inflicting this much pain on you without allowing things to be different, without sincerely trying to make this work out.
They had a really long conversation about everything. She gave me the highlights. Both of them seem to have softened to one another. Now that she’s clearer inside, things begin to clear outside.
So much work to do, but at least I’m not afraid my family is going to disintegrate. As for BH, I know her heart aches at the thought of saying goodbye to what that was, what it meant for her when she felt spiritually and emotionally bereft. But I see her heart going back to her husband, now that they’re giving each other hope. Leaving him would have brought about untold emotional wreckage, and it would have been a horribly impractical thing to do at age 54. After talking about everything else, she said to me ruefully, “I hate to bring the practical side into it, but do I really want to start over now, financially? We’d take a bath on the house, and nobody has money to buy another one. None of us would do very well, not me, not K, not Pearl. BH is adorable, and dear to me. But he’s 24 years younger than I am, and he’s poor. I’d be crazy to run off with him, and there’d be no guarantee that that would work out either.”
Ah, the voice of reason. Music to my ears. BH will cry a river. I stopped being mad at him a while back. I’m rather hoping we can still be friends of some sort, if that’s not weird. But I’m glad things are falling into place. My rides in to work with K. were making me teary, too poignant to stand. Better now.
Healer, Musician, Bookmaker, Poet 
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