My man is heading north to Atlanta, and I'm as excited as a new bride. It's not that it's been so long since I've seen him; it's just that so much has happened during our time apart. I sure miss our daily sessions of sharing our words, worries, laughter and longings.
In the time we've been away, we've begun the bid to buy land, buried my mother, played with the progeny, searched my soul with my soul sisters, reunited Richard with his beloved Higgins Boat Society boys, and escaped my fear of frost.
Richard has rented a one-bedroom apartment, to tide us over until we build a permanent waterfront home, on the same lake that swallowed our home in Hurricane Katrina. He has continued a daily commute into New Orleans to assist in refurbishing a PT boat for the World War II Museum. There is a lull in the activity that requires his presence, so he's taking advantage of the time to catch up on his doctors' appointments and to get some honey-dos done at our House in the Holler.
He'll get here in time to be my ride back from the mechanic's shop on Monday as I wait on yet another set of motor mounts for my van. I think this is the third or fourth set my old girl will be getting. I don't know what I do to destroy motor mounts, but since the twelve-year-old van is still humming along with over two hundred, thirty miles on her, I'm not complaining.
My ministry to my friend has come to it's natural conclusion, as she has announced her ability to, once again, do her daily acts of living without assistance. Since she intends to add driving to her repertoire, and even make an appearance at the mansion kitchen on Monday, I think it's time to set my baby bird free to fly on her own.
We're looking forward to seeing some of our winter-weary friends in Coker Creek, and catch up on what has transpired in our absence. With luck, we'll even catch a Bluegrass night at Charlie and Deborah's Coker Creek Saloon.
Coker Creek, we'll see you soon...