The other day I was standing at the patio door looking out and saw a beautiful black butterfly flitting among my plants. At that moment the phone rang. So I was occupied for a few minutes.
When I got off the phone I grabbed my camera, which is never far from me, and started to go out on the patio. But the pretty butterfly was gone.
I’ve been watching for it for the past several days, but I haven’t seen it again. I sure hope it comes back.
I’ve got all the curtains closed, trying to keep it cool. Later in the afternoon it will get up toward 80 degrees in here, but that’s normal for this apartment.
I truly hope they put insulation in the ceiling. Surely that would help my electric bill.
I open things up so my house plants can get light in the mornings, then close everything up about this time every day.
Some of my house plants are spending the summer outdoors in the shade.
I was looking around here the other day and thought to myself: Sure has been a long time since I moved furniture around. But I kind of have things how I want them, so I just don’t feel the need.
I do like to change up things on the table surfaces. But I’m not as crazy about moving furniture around anymore. There’s only so many ways you can arrange things in here.
I lost Abi two months ago today.
Every time I’m going through my photos on this computer and come across a photo of her, I choke up.
It just somehow doesn’t seem possible that she’s gone. I hold precious the last 12 years I had with her.
Every time I write about her I cry. At night when I’m lying in the dark waiting for sleep, I think about her and I cry.
My funny little floppy-eared pupster.
I sit here and type but the words are blurry. Sometimes I wonder how many more tears I could possibly have in me.
If you match the amount of love to the amount of tears, I may never stop crying.
Sometimes when I’m in another room and begin to cry, Charlie will come look for me. He just stands there and stares at me. I tell him I miss Abi, but that I’m okay.
Don’t worry, my Charlie boy, your mom is okay.