This last weekend has been peaceful (for me). Three days off. Four mobiles turned off, didn't log into work emails at all. No TV, no 6 O'clock News to make me cry. Again.We went home to our house in the hills. The view from the front looks into the valley below, the rear view is straight to Mt. Baw Baw, not a house in sight. It is a magical place to heal your heart and soul.
I often think we should rent the house out, help pay the mortgage, also help pay the creditcard off. In reality, I don't know how I would feel if I couldn't escape from the house at work to the house at home. Would renters look after it like I do, would they enjoy being away from towns? Would they like talking to the Fox that sits on the end of my porch every night? Or feed the King Parrots that flock to the yard most days. I even have a resident owl. I forgot the Kookaburras, the big gum is their feeding place most evenings, around 7.
I had been extremely ill for 2 months prior to moving in, and spent 3 weeks in critical care a couple of weeks after moving in. This was the second scare and major surgery in 6 months. When I came home from hospital, all I could do was walk a few steps, and either sit or lie down. I gravitated to the back porch, where I sat and smoked, (yes, I know) and looked at the view for a couple of months. I firmly believe the house had a lot to do with my recovery, both physical and emotional.
At that time I had unpacked boxes everywhere, it took me months to unpack the majority. To this day 4 years later, there are still some unpacked boxes. I wonder what's in them? More stuff I don't need, or treasures I thought I had lost?
At peace, for now.
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