Search Results for: Mr. Smith

Putting It Off

I finished going through my archives.

I stopped at 2019, but will glance through those as well. Reading each post from 2014-2018 was like reliving Breast Cancer, and seeing how much I loved Mr. Smith, all over again.

It was worth going through twice.

I no longer cringe when people read my archives. I know what’s there, and am happy with the woman who emerged. Going through my archives is something I’ve put off doing for a long time.

I’m done putting things off.

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It’s funny how they start off small.

Like, taking a shower. I can put something in front of that small task all day long, until I’m sitting here at night with no shower. Running the vacuum. Every time the sunlight hits the floor I see the dog hair, but continue on with my day.

I got my nose pierced. A small thing I’ve been putting off.

Doing the big things, but ignoring the small ones. It’s time to spend the next 30 days cultivating self trust. When a small thing needs to be done, I’ll just do it, and write it down once it’s complete. Instead of a ‘to-do list’, it will be a ‘done’ list.

No more putting it off.

Life’s Icing

I am back in my little Farmhouse.

The drives get longer, even though the route doesn’t change. The drive out of here to the lake seems short, but the drive back seems long.

My daughter is not here yet. It took her a while to pack up and leave her Dad’s. The house is still, and rather chilly from being closed up. Seymour messaged me asking if I was okay. I told her, “There is nothing in my life that cannot be fixed with a cupcake, and icing.” I love icing.

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We had a celebration at Smith’s families house yesterday. We celebrated birthdays, and the end of my Radiation treatment. They presented me with this plate of cupcakes. This is a very beautiful thing to me. They gave me icing, and they represent the icing in my life.

My daughter gives me icing all the time. I am watching her grow, and mature, and she is quite the young lady. She does things for us, and she keeps me ‘in the know’ of what’s going on, so I can maintain my ‘Cool Mom’ status. I used to watch her make a coffee pour over, and then asked her to teach me. She now has me hooked on the pour over method.

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It’s a soulful experience, almost meditative.

Mr. Smith gave my daughter a beautiful one for Christmas, but I have not graduated to that one yet. It’s made of glass, and brass, which is a scary thing for me before coffee, much less while making it. My daughter, and Smith put icing on my life with simple actions. After spending 17 years teaching her, she is now teaching me new things.

I was messaging a friend over the weekend, she said, “Sounds to me that you are climbing mountains in the direction your heart is leading you.” I hadn’t thought of this next phase of my life as climbing a mountain before, but that is how it feels.

My heart doesn’t take me to a valley. It’s always reaching higher.

And when I reach the top of this mountain, it will be covered in icing.

These Two Worlds

If I sit in the presence of Mr. Smith long enough, the conversation tends to grow deep. Not from me, but from him. I listen, become more quiet, until no words can form. I feel it.

This morning, we were sitting on the back porch, coffee in hand, watching Stork fly in over the lake. I feel a sense of peace when I see Stork. He has always revealed I am in a safe space. This morning, I felt my layers being peeled back one by one, and it was a gentle process. Smith was pointing out how I visit on the weekend, and then I pack up and leave.

I have two lives. The one with Smith on the weekends, and the one with my daughter during the week. My daughter visits some, but that is all it looks like is a weekend visit. My heart is torn between these two worlds.

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Smith has never loved me like I imagined I would be loved. He loves me better.

This morning was one of those times where he gently dug down to the heart of the matter. No more skimming over the surface, and the end result was a feeling of rawness. I thought I was holding it together pretty well, living this double life. But, I don’t have to ‘hold it all together’ anymore.

It’s always been my daughter, and me. Even when I was married to her father, it was really just the two of us. There comes a time where you don’t know which way is home. I have two houses, but which one is home?

Bringing three lives together, and enjoying one life. People say it’s a hard thing to do, but from where I sit, it’s harder not to.

One More Day

I am going to post two Blogs today. It doesn’t happen often, but I have another one in me. If you are reading this, you may want to read the one from this morning, “Which Way Home.” A change of events occurred after posting that one, and I got my one more day.

Note to self. Do not let the dog outside as you’re loading up your truck.

Mr. Smith has a Min Pin, (miniature Doberman Pincher), that decided to race out the door as soon as I opened it. I didn’t think too much about it because he usually comes back in a few minutes. Once I finished loading my truck, I noticed the time was moving closer to my Radiation appointment, and he hadn’t returned. I was going to have to go look for him.

My left breast has a deep burn going on after 21 treatments. I started putting pure Aloe Vera on it yesterday, and thought, it would be nice to have one more day to keep it covered in Aloe. Thanks to Mr. Smith’s dog, I got my one more day. He came home an hour later.

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There was one thing I wanted to do while Smith was at work. To clean up my room.

Smith gave me this room to enjoy as I write, and tinker with stained glass. It got covered up with boxes from Christmas, and the table was full. I love this room and the view! By taking one more day to soothe my soul, I would also have it to heal my burned boob. I took a shower, put on Aloe , my Yoga pants, a comfortable t-shirt, and walked into the room.

I tore down all the empty boxes, and have them ready to be picked up. Then it was time to organize all this glass. Smith’s grandmother used to work with glass, and I am blessed to have all her leftover pieces. The tool caddy needed to be put together completely, so I did that as well. While looking at what I had in the caddy, I realized two things I would need.

While doing a Google search for the items, I felt my heart prompting me to look through the box of glass. Pulling out all of the pieces, and getting down to the bottom of the box. There is where I found the items I needed. The tool caddy is complete, and the room is cleaned, and organized. Sometimes the body and soul just need that one more day.

Eye See You

Yesterday, I drove to the lake to see Mr. Smith. On the drive here, I watched as the outdoor temperature dropped. Checking the weather before I left prompted me to pack items for 70 degree weather. The temperature outside went from the 70’s to the 50’s upon arrival.

Mr. Smith had the doors, and windows of the house open. He had been enjoying the 70 degree temps as well. I walked in, and saw him standing in the sliding glass doorway, and he looked so different. We had not seen each other since Christmas, but we talk everyday. He was wearing flannel lounging pants, a white tank, and had a bandanna tied over his hair.

Mr. Smith is a Chef, and yesterday he looked the part. He looked at ease in his skin.

It caught me off guard, and I tried to respond naturally, but I could not connect. I know who he is, and what he is, but my heart was arguing with my head. We were disconnected.

I started pondering what love is, and that is what I started writing about. Today, I see what my eyes were seeing, and what my heart was showing me. Let’s look at a few examples of love in action. There are many ways he displays his love, but for the sake of brevity, we will stick with examples from yesterday, starting with the state of the house.

Chef knows I live an uncluttered life. He has been doing some ‘spring cleaning’ he says, but I see it differently. The closets, and inside the cabinets have all been cleaned out and organized. You can look around and tell that Chef is willing to share his life.

He has a knack of doing things for both of us, but I believe I receive the biggest thrill. Chef and I love music even though our taste in music are different, there’s one thing we know. It feeds the soul.

He bought something easy for me to play music on. Before yesterday, I had to try and figure out his sound system, and it was hit or miss for me. This morning when he left for work, I hit two buttons, and was quickly listening to my favorite  Jennifer Nettles CD.

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To clear a spot for our simple sound system, he put his knife collection in a closet, but as you can see, he left my Jesus Calling devotional laying out. This is a picture of happiness.

I’ve had a difficult time recently with my part time job, but that is another Blog. Between the stress I was feeling from that, my boob stinging from the radiation, and then this disconnect, I was a mess. I went and laid across the bed, and watched the wind blow outside. Chef came back to check on me, but he knew I was off center, so he gave me space.

Then, I heard it. The music. It started out slow, and soothing, but then it changed.

Chef was in the kitchen, doing what he loves to do. Cook! He was actually cooking a spectacular dinner that I was supposed to be helping with, but I was pondering.

He changed the music to country, which I love. I heard Brad Paisley, and some of the greats singing away. Then the music changed again, but this time, it almost made me cry.

I heard Lionel Richie. Ladies, if your man plays Lionel Richie, that man loves you.

By this time, I was back in front of my laptop trying to do my job, but I could feel the words to each song drifting down the hallway to where I was sitting. Chef was trying to reach me, but give me space. He gave me my 3 minute heads up on dinner being plated as I finished my work. Joining him at the dining room table, I felt like a big bowl of mush.

He will read this Blog at some point today, and I’m grateful he doesn’t embarrass easily. I was concerned for half a minute what he would think, but who am I kidding? He already knows all of this; he knew it yesterday. Chef sees everything, but best of all, he sees me.