It Was Never

The walls are closing in on me. Not figuratively, but actually.

I never would lie or say I once lived in a mansion.

Because that was not so.

Our home was originally built by an enterprising builder and quite like many others in the area.

However, the white cape cod with the black shutters I reluctantly abandoned six years ago had decidedly evolved with love (and yes, money) during the 52 years my Anam Cara and I called it home.

But no, I cannot deny it was never a mansion despite the addition of brick and slate, a porch and numerous other alterations during the years of love, laughter and yes, occasional turmoil while we lived there

Consequently, when the time came to say adieu (an inevitable fact of life for everything life bestows during our amazing journey) I had no fear of a smaller home.

I believed I could easily adjust and even possibly recreate in a small way the comfort and pleasure of yesteryears.

The relocation promised an easier way of life, far from the burdens of yesterday.

It allowed the ease of many things i.e.,No need to cook, no need to do laundry, truly a life of ease. Or so the brochure promised.

And although the brochure kept its word, I chose not to accept the easier way.

Nada!

Instead I decided to slowly but surely recreate what I had recently abandoned.

The very first addition was my own coffee maker. Thus rejecting the always available fresh brewed urn down the hall.

Soon a toaster arrived, (again no need). Fresh bread, croissants readily available from the fine dining room

And yes I could, but won’t deny the air fryer is another new delightful toy,

Since I have already told you about the Cuisinart that certainly requires no further explanation

However, I must admit as my living space shrinks, I do occasionally cringe.

\While vaguely wondering If I should reform. I momentarily consider contributing the appliances to a worthy recipient

But then, of course, I don’t and probably never will.

Because somehow when the coffee pot simmers, the toaster spits out a hot English muffin and the Cusinart waits quietly to mix butter cookies,

I am once again wrapped in the warmth of yesterday’s love, laughter and yes occasional pathos that made life so wonderful.

And I recall how good life was and is.

And realize how blessed I have been.