There are so many things about my old life I miss. Taken individually they seem like such little insignificant things but when you take the sum of the whole another story unfolds.
I miss things like looking out our kitchen window and seeing the woods behind the house and the 30 wild turkeys feeding on the acorns all over the ground there. I miss my husband. I miss hearing the back door open and knowing Dave was coming in from the field. I miss him kissing me on the back of the neck and then asking me "What's for lunch?". I miss washing his clothes and the smell of them after they dried on the line. I miss the quietness and the clean air at the farm and I miss the green, growing fields. I miss getting up in the morning, knowing I was going to get to spend another day with my best friend. I miss running out to the field with Dave, to plant seeds in the rain, when it came earlier than the forecast predicted, and getting soaked in the process, coming in shivering and laughing together about how we got them in the ground at the perfect time. I miss being read to in bed. I miss picking beans and cukes and tomatoes and eggplant. I miss seeing him pull into the driveway after he had been away...whether it was for an hour or a day, it always thrilled me when he returned. I miss getting up at 4am to get ready for the farmer's market and I miss how much fun Dave and I always had when we got there. I miss him hogging the bathroom and stealing the covers off me in the middle of the night. I miss cooking for someone who was endlessly enthusiastic about whatever my latest kitchen experiment might be. I miss listening to him playing his guitar at night after all the work was done. I miss the smell of the first fall fire in the wood stove and listening to it crackle and pop. I miss sitting on the sofa with only the firelight flickering, staring at the fire, cuddling with Dave and just being together. I miss the calluses on his palms, hard earned from work, and the ones on his fingertips from long hours of playing his guitars. I miss him cutting his own hair over the bathroom sink and never quite getting all of it cleaned up. I miss having those beautiful blue eyes peering at me, taking time to look up from whatever book he was reading. Even then there was the look of love in them. I miss the taste of his tears mingling with mine, as I held him close and told him everything was going to be okay, when we both knew it wasn't. I miss him being so uninterested in money that he didn't even know what bank we had our account with unless he looked at the checkbook. I miss watching him do amazing things on a daily basis. I miss our walks in the woods. I miss the muscles in his broad shoulders and that teeny mole on the back of his ear. I miss counting the freckles on his back and teasing him about connecting the dots to see what kind of a picture it might make. I miss having someone in my life that no matter what I did, still thought I was wonderful. I miss the goats and the pigs and the chickens. I miss the smell of 3 tons of horse manure wafting into our open window on a warm spring night and listening to the crickets sing. I miss having 9 months of backbreaking farm labor to get crops in and having the next 3 months off to just enjoy my life with my husband. I miss kisses. I miss the friends we made over the years that have disappeared from my life after Dave died. I miss my family members who live so very far away. I miss the confidence I had when I was with him because he made me stronger and better. I miss the security of knowing that I had a roof over my head and having somebody that made it home. I miss having a home. I miss having someone I could tell anything to and who always gave me the best advice on solving problems. I miss being married to a man who was movie star handsome, so much so that I often wondered why he had chosen me, feeling very lucky that he did. I miss watching him walk, like a cat, all grace and fluid motion...it could make my heart skip a beat and still does when I think about it. I miss how he made me feel. I miss the conversations we used to have about anything and everything. I miss the smell of him because it was pure, like the elements...earth, water, fire and air...it was like he was made from them. I miss the front porch and the rocking chairs. I miss cooking for someone who appreciated every meal I ever made for him. I miss being brave and strong. I miss being loved more than I ever thought it was possible to be loved and being able to love somebody back with that same intensity.
Yeah, I miss my old life....
Yeah, I miss my old life....
