A Room with a View

I’ve taken  the WordPress Writing 101 challenge: respond to a new topic every weekday in June.  I’m determined to do it and  will post some of my writing here.  Other posts will be on my second blog  (Fooddancer.wordpress.com) So here’s the topic for day #2: A Room with A View.

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I want to go back …. back eight years … back to the day that I stood in this open window and felt carefree, before we knew that Bo has Alzheimers, before we awoke every morning worried about the  new day,  about our future,  about the lonely decisions ahead.  I want to go back to normal days.  I want to have conversations with Bo that make sense.

On that day eight years ago I awoke early to the sound of doves and the warm morning light of the Dordogne. I dressed and  hurried quietly down the stairs  so I could be the first to open the kitchen windows wide and watch the fog rise above the beautiful French morning. The light was different, the landscape a deeper, richer color, a photo waiting to be taken.

The small hillside house in the French countryside is one of my favorite places. Everything about it was  quaint and charming: the gas stove that wouldn’t light, the old coffeepot, the tiny refrigerator, even the slightly musty smell.  I stood in that open window, coffee mug in hand  every morning  for two weeks, basking in the beauty.

One cup of coffee makes me feel creative — the caffeine high that turns talkative, stimulated. It’s cliche, but it’s true: I drink strong coffee and I want to write a novel, create a flower arrangement, go someplace special with my camera.  That first cup of coffee in our rented house in Peyrillac-et-Millac simply made everything more inviting, more … alive.

Those were the last days before the reality of Bo’s illness dropped a heavy cloud over us. In previous blogs I’ve described it as having a stone in my chest, the most accurate description I can give. After we found out, I would walk around our block in the morning or late at night taking deep breaths, trying to move that stone, and in several years  it did go away but  the cloud stayed.  Life was changed forever.

Today I shut my eyes and I’m back at the open window looking out at the lush green morning, the bowl of sunflowers on our wall, the peaked roofs on golden brown stone buildings, and for a moment I feel free and light.  I want that day back.

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15 Responses to A Room with a View

  1. Annamarie says:

    You are such a talented writer. Whenever your blog arrives, I drop everything to read it. Thank you so much for sharing this journey with those of us that are fortunate to be your closest friends and care so deeply about you and Bo. Hope your knowing how much your friends care helps you get thru each challenge. Love & Hugs, Annamarie

  2. What a friend you are!

  3. Paula Kaye says:

    Your writing is wonderful. I can feel myself standing next to you…I can almost smell the coffee. I am sharing your journey as well…except we don’t have Alzheimer’s but Parkinson’s disease with Lewy Body dementia…it sucks the life right out of one. Our journey really got bad just three years ago! It helps to read of others journeys.

    http://smidgensbitsandsnippets.blogspot.com/

  4. Thank you for sharing too, Paula.

  5. Pauline Koch says:

    Nancy, this is beautiful and makes the French countryside and your experience there come alive! Thank you for sharing your thoughts and please take care! You are very special. Pauline

  6. Dianne Wilkens says:

    [image: Inline image 1]

    Seems fitting….you paint a pix in my mind in every blog you create…….Hugs friend….dw

  7. Lisa M says:

    I dream of going to the French countryside someday and I feel like you just took me there. What a perfect picture of morning…you really have a way with words. I think we all have that moment right before Alzheimer’s took over your life. I can picture exactly the evening.
    I feel like I have that same heavy stone on my chest. It’s how I feel 20 seconds after I wake up and remember what the day holds. Thank you so much for sharing your stories.

  8. Pat says:

    How wonderful are those special memories, they are always there to visit when you need them.

  9. Arleen Mildred Stolzenberger says:

    Awesome writing! I felt I was there with you. Thanks for sharing.

  10. I so enjoyed your beautiful, yet melancholy writing. The feeling is something I am familiar with. There’s blessing in the sharing of such an uphill journey… Best wishes to you and Bo.

  11. I was crying by the second paragraph, knowing the happiness that comes with ignorance. This story is beautiful in its descriptions and intentions.

  12. Chaos Girl says:

    Oh wow, how sad to lose your spouse in this way. But your writing is very evocative; beautifully descriptive.

  13. lauzlau says:

    I really enjoy reading such tender thoughts and compassionate posts. You handle life with such grace. Thank you for following.

  14. John Yeo says:

    A tender expressive journey that is sadly familiar to many others ~Thanks, you have a new follower 😉

  15. What a wonderful description of your lovely home in the French countryside juxtaposed against the discovery of something not so quaint as a loved one with Alzheimer’s. Thank you for sharing.

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