I never intended to stop going to Highlands altogether. Its just that, in the past, it had become a given that its where we would spend every weekend that I wasn't on call. We were paying zero attention to Camp Rustown and all of the things we needed to work on at our actual home. After Mark died, I released myself from the every single weekend obligation.
Every time I come up here I feel overwhelmed and anxious, teary and confused. What in the hell am I going to do with this place? Not to mention, when? How?
Its really like seeing a dying dream.
I don't know the first thing about caring for this place. It feels like beautiful chaos.
The grass is so high. The pipes are still broken. The canoe is still leaning against the fence. I don't know how to change out the under-sink water filter.
And it feels a little ghostly to me. I feel like I am very very slowly coming to terms with what I will need to decide for its future. It breaks my heart a little to think of someone else building their little country home up here.
This past Saturday I gathered as many bluebonnet seeds as I could find. I never saw more than half a dozen bluebonnets up here this spring. (But I did find seeds so maybe I just missed them?)
I decided I would come up here a minimum of once a month. If even for an hour or so. Just walk around, take note of things, month by month. I hope to figure it alol out, and I can't avoid coming here just because it makes me cry.
Gina
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