DIFFERENT DEPTHS OF LOVE

I have had a lot on my mind lately.

A lot of things in my life are changing: mindset, lifestyle, friendships … the list goes on: just like life. Life continually moves forward. So does everything else that affects life.

And all of it involves love at some point.

I read an article the other day that echoes what I hear several of my widowed friends repeating: {{“Was --- my one and only? Will I ever find a love on the level I had with him? In the five years since he died, I’ve examined and re-examined our marriage and – honestly – there were flaws. Neither of us was perfect, but the love we shared was. He truly was my other half. I still feel the strength of the bond we shared years later. Will I ever feel that again for someone else? Have all my tears and all my love been used up on ---? I’ll try to keep an open mind. I don’t want to self-sabotage or dismiss the possibility that I can share a love like that again with someone. Maybe I just haven’t met the right guy. But when I remember the passionate love I felt for ---, I simply can’t imagine experiencing it again. He was my person …”}}

I can identify – BUT I also believe there are different depths of love.

Storge and agape love interest me at the moment; they “fit” where my life is at the moment.

I’ll be a 4-year widow in December. My Bob was, and still IS, my one great passion: I could never share with anyone else what Bob and I had together – our love consumed us; we were definitely each other’s half, and together we made a perfect whole. I do not believe I will ever find another man like Bob. I do not believe that I will ever again experience the love Bob and I shared: there will never be a replacement for Bob, or for the passion we shared together for 44 years.

And so, I am not looking for that love.

But … I do believe that while one life may end, the other need not until it is their time.

I am open to a companionship – not a “friend with benefits”; but a friendly companion I can share time and life with. A mature friend who understands that there isn’t going to be “a level up”. I know such friendships are real. Rare, but real: this is the 1st year I have even seriously considered so much as a friendly companion; so, I know I am beginning to heal. I am ready to move forward. But I also know that I am not ready to share my body, or my home with another man. THAT still belongs to Bob: it always has, it always will. And any man who enters my life from this day forward WILL understand. I truly believe that.

I don’t know how much time I have left (tomorrow is not promised); but I do know that while I’ve been a content Solo Lobo for the past 3-1/2 years, I miss sharing my life with someone who cares if I live or die. I have a lot of love to still share with someone. I am open to the possibility of a friendly companion who feels as I do – perhaps a widower who has also lost their heart to their only love. And that’s okay.

Life continues to move forward as we walk the boulevard of broken dreams.

And there are different depths of love.

With those thoughts zinging around in my head, I went for a walk 😉

I took the long route: I have thinking to do.

I need to walk some thoughts out ... I didn’t even bother with my hair: I just dressed, and went.

Coal Creek Rd. to Eufaula Heights Rd.; 9 mins.

Eufaula Heights Rd. to Germany Creek Rd., via Stella Road - 16 mins.

MAP Mill Creek Rd. from Eufaula Heights Rd.; 16 min (9.3 mi) via Germany Creek Rd.

Erosion on Beaver Creek Road is still a dicey situation.

Elochoman Road from Mill Creek Road; via Beaver Creek Road - 24 min (10.1 miles)

Rain started at the crest of Beaver Creek Road.

It was blue skies, and dry roads in the Elochoman Valley.

Cathlamet from Elochoman Valley; 11 min (6.8 mi) via Elochoman Valley Rd.

Skamokawa from Cathlamet; 8 min (6.7 mi) via WA-4 W

I turned off the main highway and onto Brook's Slough Road ...

I saw a ragged-looking coyote, near the end of Brook's Slough Road; it looked starved. Sorry about the jerky shot – the road was very rough.

Something new … walking this trail, this afternoon.

I parked Highlander ... and set off.

Easy; all flat terrain.

I'm not alone; one of the dangers of solo lobo hiking.

Heavy gray clouds rolling in off the river ...

I could hear thunder in the distance ... Legend of Rip Van Winkle:(https://www.legendsofamerica.com/ny-ripvanwinkle/ & https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14WcHFPaJio)

I only got half way into my hike when the cloudburst happened ☹

I was soaked by the time I walked back to the parked Horizon … and my jacket was still wet when I walked through the front door at home 😉

But before I got back home, I nipped into the burger bar heading out of Cathlamet – the burger’s here are so good!

Supper here; YUMMY cheeseburger and onion rings.

Longview from Cathlamet; 33 min (25.0 mi) via Ocean Beach Highway

Back in Longview, and nearing Oak Point … I saw something I’d never seen before.

I researched this thing at home, later on: “ballast water is pumped out ..."

As I sat and watched for a few minutes, I realized I was at the apex point of what kickstarted my thought process – this area is the area most of my thoughts center on. I’ve spent most of this year in this one region … and now I have thoughts I need to sort out.

I’ve pretty much decided what I’m going to be doing.

I just have to do it.

Some of the changes will be easy – those changes are already happening, without my hand in any of it.

Some changes will be harder; some people will not understand. Hurt is inevitable.

Immediate change (1) While sitting there watching that water spew from the ship’s side, I also called the Rosburg Hall Coordinator and canceled my Bazaar Table: it would be fun and I do enjoy Bazaars … but three weeks just isn’t enough time to pull together new inventory. There simply isn’t enough time. The Bazaar was hastily decided upon as soon as insleeze announced he was lifting the mask mandate (scheduled to be lifted, October 21^st – the Bazaar is the 29^th). It takes me a full year to make items for my Bazaar Cache. Three weeks is not a full year. I’m not going to drive myself crazy to make the coordinator happy; Bazaars need to be announced at least 3 months in advance … then vendors at least have a chance of having the inventory necessary to cash in on the output of trip costs, and table fees (bare income necessities).

Frieda was hurt, and her voice conveyed that. I was sorry, and I hope she understood.

But I ultimately have to put ME, and my well-being, first.

Hopefully, while Winter weather keeps me out of the fray for a few months (and get-togethers aren’t as frequent as they have been for gentler months), understanding will deepen – and the sting of hurt will lessen: I did warn everyone from the get-go, that I don’t like to let moss grow under my feet.

I’ve enjoyed the local time, with local friends.

BUT …

I’ve got to keep moving. I get antsy if I am not mobile. It’s time to branch out a bit more. I’ve missed the road trips. I never did get to do a solo lobo overnight away from home.

Most of my new friends are preppers: I am not. I live day to day, trusting Elohim to provide ... and He always does. Everything we enjoy today – in the moment – is temperol: LIFE IS TEMPERAL. I don't want to argue that fact; I don't want to be swayed to thier way of thinking. I have not "heard from on High" the {need} to stockpile food (or anything else) for the next century. I seriously doubt I will live to see the next century ushered in!

I got a year older – time is marching forward. I want to match its forward pace.

Friends in surrounding counties have been after me all of this year (while I’ve been kept busy with friendship activities locally), to “come visit!” … that sounds like a real good Plan for 2023 😊

And to be quite honest – real friends won’t mind if I’m not ‘handy’ 24/7/365. They’ll want me to be happy 24/7/365 😉

I’m not happy when I feel stuck.

Change is necessary for me. I’m a complicated gal, living a complicated life. The love I’m angling for, “gets” that.

Last night, I finished my last read; so tonight, I chose a new one to balance out the heavy thinking of hard decisions:

New Read.

NOT DANCING WITH MYSELF TONIGHT 😉

Tonight, was jammin’ time 😊

I dolled myself up … and hit the road 😉

Green outfit, green eye accent, and green mascara …

I was about 15 minutes late in arriving at the session, because I ran into town to grab a flavored coffee. As soon as I walked through the open door, I could hear Corrina, singing with J – I’d met Corrina last weekend, and invited her to join us: I sensed she’d have a great voice … and she does!

I’d left home hoping to see her with us tonight; I’m really glad she showed. I’d take pictures, but everyone has not consented to that, so I’m being respectful and keeping the phone in my purse when there ☹

While I was watching/listening to the band tease Corrina by playing the old rock and roll ‘Corrine, Corrina’ song, CM came over and joined me on the sidelines. When she heard why I was late, she offered to gift me with an espresso maker she doesn’t use (she’s only used it 4 times, so it’s practically new 😉). I am glad for the gifting.

Ray Peterson – ‘Corrine Corrina’ song: (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ouanlAQ-QXg)

Then, a fella showed up that I’d not met yet – I’d heard members of the jam group talk of him, and he sounded intriguing (don’t get excited folks … Judah is about 24 years old – and I’m not interested in romantic intrigues: no matter what age). But it was fun to get to know him. He’s very personable, and keen to aid wherever he can be of service in the group. I could see that he's going to be a good asset if he keeps coming back.

I can’t tell yu’all how much I thoroughly enjoy these Thursday shindigs. I love music. I like live garage style bands. I like watching songs being created on the spot. I like that I am a permanent fixture with the Group. I like hearing, “Here’s comes the wild child now!” when I walk through the door. I like that I can be ME when I am with them 😊

I left around somewhere around 8 PM, because it was quite dark by then, and Ocean Beach Highway tends to fill with lunatic driver’s when the sun sets (I prefer being home before pitch-black-nightfall; that didn’t happen tonight) … and as I was nearing the end of Mill Creek Road, I happened to see a super-sized Cruise Ship, cruising up the Columbia River; so I turned onto Ocean Beach Highway – and quickly pulled over into the Oak Point turnout along, 2 shakes of a lamb’s tail away from where I’d caught sight of the hulking luxury liner.

Laughter and music echoing from the passing luxery liner, reached my ears in the Highlander, on the Oak Point turnout.

'American Harmony' Cruise Ship, heading up the Columbia River to Astoria-OR

I watched the huge ship pass, then I continued homeward – turning off at Germany Creek and driving over Eufaula Heights to Coal Creek, which ties into the small portion of Ocean Beach Highway very near my home. It’s a half hour longer that a straight drive from A to B … but I don’t have to deal with lunatic drivers, so it’s worth the extra distance, to me 😉

Germany Creek Rd. to Eufaula Heights Rd., via Stella Road - 16 mins.

Eufaula Heights Rd. to Coal Creek Rd.; 9 mins.

Coal Creek Road to Heron Pointe; 6 mins.

It was a funtastic night with friends.

It was great meeting Judah (interesting name for an interesting fella 😉).

I can’t wait until next Thursday!

ECCENTRICITY

Tonight, I drove to Kelso to visit with friends … and met a new friend 😊

But before actually getting to Kelso, I stopped at the Indy Diner for Supper. I’ve been very tired lately, so I decided to enrich my blood with a Liver & Onions supper – I like liver, and it’s a good source of iron.

I smiled when I saw my waitress: she had always waited on us, and her makeup was always so thick, it looked like she was wearing a halloween mask (and Bob said she looked like a girl in Bob’s high school class dubbed ‘scare’em’); that sounds cruel, I know, but seriously her makeup was so thick it seemed put on with a plastering spatula. But tonight, the makeup was not so thick … and I sent a mental message to Bob, of that fact, with a silent chuckle 😉

Supper here tonight.

The makeup has been scaled back.

Liver & Onions Meal - YUM!

Tonight, while visiting friends in Kelso, and talking with Sue (a widow, like me), I broke off midsentence and said, “here, I’ll show you his picture – and you will understand why my heart could never belong to anyone else.” And she did: she took a look, and said, “Oh my. He was one good-looking man!” And I smiled. He was. And for our brief 44 years together, he was all mine. Being able to freely talk about him, gives me joy.

I spent a very good and friendly two hours in Kelso before heading home. As I turned down the backroad, intending to take the looping route back home, I saw that the road I wanted had been closed for a portion of it and a detour was in place.

Cowlitz Gardens Road, Kelso-WA

N. Pacific Ave., closed.

Another pitfall along the route ...

When I got home, I received a phone call asking if I wanted to be part of a Fall Bazaar at Rosburg Hall the end of October – I said “Yes!”, and noted the details on the wall calendar. Then I immediately started taking mental inventory of what I had on hand … and what I’d have to quickly make up for new inventory 😉

And, I headed for the kitchen to sort through the various thermoses: coffee thermoses, and soup thermoses. Vendors sit through many hours between foot traffic, at Bazaars; coffee and soup are good satisfiers 😊

Opening the cupboard and sorting through the contents to find what I will be needing, I see that I haven’t completely culled all of my husband’s things; in the bedroom – atop his drawered valet, I’ve left his favorite pencil stubs where he left them the last time that he used them when designing things for me (like the birdhouse and bird feeder that hangs outside the livingroom window; and the garden boxes I replant every Spring); on the top shelf in the bedroom closet – and in the Highlander armrest-cubby, I’ve kept a couple of his favorite hats that weren’t frayed with continual use and laundering; in “his top drawer” of the bedroom dresser, I’ve hoarded scraps of paper with his scratchy handwriting on them (though these are fading to near indiscernible, as he preferred pencil over ballpoint ink); I’ve kept his thermal tops, and I will wear them every Winter until they literally all apart; photos bring me to him: looking at his snapshot face and form, memories vibrate with the sound of his voice, his laughter, the feel of him next to me, his zest for life – the recorded CD testimonial, and phone videos echo with his ability to find wonder and joy in every situation, and to easily laugh even in the midst of pain and hardship: these things relay to me, his enduring strength … on which my strength in the moment, at any given moment, pulls strongly on … and now these forlorn hospital mugs are staring me in the face as I take inventory of forgotten thermoses that will be put to use this Fall/Winter. Why did I hang into those plastic mugs – do I actually intend to use them, at some point? I stare at those things, and wonder at the strange eccentricity of my sentimentality.

Leftovers from a past life ...

BRIGHT & INTENSE

This is my 4^th September, without Bob.

As I dressed to spend the day away from home, my thoughts were redirected to last year’s colorful Fall leaves, and I laughed aloud – because dressed as I was, I represented every colorful leaf in last year’s leaf fall 😉

‘Spectrum’ Post: (https://jeastofeden.blogspot.com/2021/10/spectrum.html)

I broke out my last new mascara color to match my blouse, today.

'Auburn' Eyebrow Gel, & 'Burgundy' mascara.

I spent the day with friends – new friends; friends I made this year. Friends who never knew Bob. Friends that only know Bob by what I share about my life with Bob … and some only know Bob through his recorded testimony, by which they hear in his own words about his life.

As I forge ahead in this journey, I am not walking alone; not only do I have a “great heavenly host surrounding” me … but I have the very real, very present presence of friends spread over two counties, who have opened their lives to meld with mine. No matter where I am, at any given time – I am surrounded by the spirit of these people I share this journey with: whether alone in my home or the highlander; or actually sharing face-to-face time.

I am also constantly and continually, surrounded by the love my husband showered on me – the essence of Bob is in the confidence his love imbued me with; the love I steadily pull on as I am learning to take care of myself in all the areas my husband took care of me for the 44 years we shared together. I don’t mean that Bob treated me like an over-grown-baby, because he didn’t … what I do mean, is that he tempered my life in areas it needed balance: now, I am learning to find that balance, solo lobo. I am leaning into confidence without a verbal backup agreement. I am learning to trust the decisions I make – I can trust those decisions because Bob trusted my decisions while he walked this Earth with me; and he told me he trusted me to get on with living after he was gone. My husband, in his final days on Earth, was positively instilling me with the confidence I would need to move forward after I was pushed into this New Life of mine unwillingly.

I didn’t know then … and I wouldn’t feel the full effects of his wise instillment, until recently … it turns out (and Bob instinctively knew – and impressed on me) that I can survive the worst life has to offer: and I can still find parts of life to love and to be thankful for.

I am learning in the waning of 2022, to value every minute – and every person – I’m afforded.

I have learned these past 48 months (can it really be that short of a period of time, when it seems like forever???) that uncharted beauty of an unfolding new life comes with the tragedy of ending an older part of continuing life. The love and devotion my friends show me … and the strength I’ve found within myself … are painfully beautiful.

Love and loss, pain and beauty. Never one without the other. Always bright and intense.

9-11 ~ NEVER FORGET

Never forget what real racist hatred is capable of.

islam is a cultic religion that continually spews hatred – and acts on it at every opportunity.

America – on September 11^th, 2001, America was strategically, and methodically attacked … and 8 short years later, a rabid muslim named barak hussain obama was ushered into the Oval Office to spew his racial hatred for 8 long, torturous years: and he hasn’t shut up, yet! The demonrats have catapulted that demon in the flesh to god status, and are following his perverted agenda to the letter ☹