That Child of Mine ...

He loves to pester me about updating my blog. So ok, here it is. I actually have some new material for my blog; pictures of people getting married and the lace wedding garter I've knit, a linen bookmark for a departing supervisor, rants about my struggle to complete the Lyra ... and all that mixed in with observations on the complete stupidity of Canadians at federal (and here in Alberta, provincial) election time.

However, the new material will have to wait until I have the time to upload the pics and do the writing.

Since my last entry, Christmas and my 51st birthday have come and gone, and here we're staring Valentine's Day in the face. I continue to be haunted with ghosts of living in the US for nearly 5 years, and ongoing bitterness towards the dysfunctional, self-absorbed idiot I married (which also makes me an idiot). We (the wonderful man in my life and I) are preparing for the long-overdue move back to Vancouver Island, and I must admit that as much as I'm not crazy about living in Lethbridge, leaving my dad (now 80) and his wife behind are going to be real heartbreakers. Same with leaving my best friend Adonus behind. She and I are the mother/daughter team that never was. Start and/or finish each other's sentences, we can almost have a conversation without words. The last friendship like this I experienced with a co-worker in Massachusetts by the name of Cathy Powers. How I have missed her!

I've said for years that the only constant in my life is change. The older I get, the truer it seems to be. Most folks my age are staring a secure retirement in the face; I've lived moment to moment and will likely have to be peddling my knit lace when I'm 75 just to put food on the table. 50 arrived and slapped me hard across the face. I have no idea where all those years went, but I didn't plan to get this old and this poor so quickly. Some of the residual bitterness I have towards the Massachusetts ex is that I let him keep all of his share of the assets of his first marriage (after all, I had made a promise), and gosh, Bruce, I was only "number two", as you so kindly put it at Sharon's birthday party that night. If I had allowed the judge to do what he wanted, I would have walked away from that divorce with 1/2 of Bruce's share of a beautiful house on 7 acres, and that would likely have set me up just fine for a long and somewhat comfortable retirement.

I do, however, own two pieces of property. Prime, WEST COAST property. Oh, did I mention the number of times Bruce counseled me to sell? Thankfully, I ignored his harsh and stupid words and kept the properties. This means I have a home to go back to (on Vancouver Island) and if I ever decide to sell my Savary Island property, I'll have fattened my wallet with a substantial amount of money, which will also provide a comfortable contribution towards my doddering years (ya, right).

However, in direct contrast to whatever monetary wealth Bruce Francis Baldwin has, I have love in my life. Two parents, both very much alive, who love the heck outta me. A wonderful son, the light of my life, now 26 years old and what a privilege it is to be such an important part of his life. And a man named Dorne, a true partner in my life (take a lesson here, Brucey) who loves me and shows his support and loyalty in ways that most men can't even imagine. This amazing man is going to be 64 years old this year, and he is fit and strong and healthy and so very smart, although every time he calls me "gorgeous", I have to wonder about his vision (kidding!).

So cash poor and love rich is my situation. I look back at my life in Massachusetts (it was better after Bruce decided that "Missy B, we have to think about what we're going to do with the rest of our lives, because we're not as happy as we were three years ago ... when in fact, it was he who was never happy, and never will be, as long as he bears the hatred towards his mother the way he does. A man who hates his mother can never really love any woman, including his own daughter), and even though after I became single and had a relationship with a great guy (Hi Jeff), I was still not where I should have been. Sometimes you can go home, and it's better than you ever thought it could be.

I am exactly where I am supposed to be at this time of my life.

I can't wait to feel the Pacific Ocean on my toes again. I can't wait for a warm day on the south beach of Savary Island (tears welling up in my eyes just thinking about it). I can't wait to make breakfast on the woodstove in that shack on Savary Island, and hear Dorne and my son talking together, and maybe even that special woman in my son's life.

As much as I learned and experienced during my time in the US, essentially, my life was on hold during those years. Mid-life hasn't brought me a crisis at all, but peace of mind that I love well, that I am loved well, and that I am exactly where I am supposed to be at this time in my life.

So, my beautiful perfect son who pesters me to update my blog; there, it's done, for now. You need to (YOU NEED TO ... haha) update YOUR blog, my darling son!