One more day of melancholy and then I'll have to move on. It feels terrible to be here wrapped in things that feel bad, and besides, the world calls. It rained on and off yesterday and the morning came with fog that is burning off now.
Being here and trying to start this homestead and this goat business from scratch is not the first time I've started over. We moved often when I was growing up with many starts and as an adult I've started over in South Carolina, Washington, DC, Europe, and now here. I'm fairly comfortable with making a full life from nothing. Of course it's not easy.
This time is harder for several reasons. I'm 45 minutes away from the city. I consider doing things that I have done in the past to meet people, and often pass because 1-1/2 hours of driving is daunting. I'm trying to do things here that I have no idea how to do. I have no path and no mentor to show me the way, and no help. On days like today, it feels impossible.
I want to run back to Cleveland where I have friends that I've had for 25 years and where I feel safe and loved. I want to give this up and do something easier. Maggie looks at me with concern and licks the wet salt from my eyes. I don't want to start over any more times. I want to be finished with starting. I want to build a life that has laughter and fun and people and animals and outside in it, right here.
I don't know what I'm going to do long-term. I don't know if I'm capable of doing what I'm trying to do. But I know what I'm going to do today. I'm going to cut the grass. I'm going to do more to get the house ready for winter. Tonight, I'm going to go to choir rehearsal.
I'll close with a quote that I found online in the depths of last winter when I was so very cold and doing everything wrong. Courage does not always roar. Sometimes, it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, “I will try again tomorrow.”
I think that's what I'll do, for now.
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