I'm what is known in the writing world as a Pantser: someone who writes by the seat of their pants. Frankly, I find that term very derogatory and prefer Free Form writing. Still. The bottom line is, I have no idea what my plot is, or where in the world I'm going with it. So far though, I'm pretty intrigued, and for Day One not doing too badly.
The sunset last night was beautiful, though didn't come out in a photo nearly as great as real life. The colors seemed to fill the sky and even tint the living room with a subtle reddish pink glow.
Then this morning when I opened the blinds, I thought at first it had snowed..!! The frost was very thick on the ground, which should just about have finished off the last three pumpkins. Drat. I really wanted to see how big they would grow. (Yes, that shiny white stuff is frost).
It's also an Islands in the Stream morning. The whole valley is under cover of dense fog, which makes the mountain peaks look like islands in a white sea. I love this weather spectacle, though the temperature is about 30*...brrrr. When I took the dogs outside for their quickie, it really was for a change..!! Might have to put them in their winter coats for the walk in the park later...
Okay, enough dawdling. Time to get back to the last portion of the very lengthy journal entry of Oct 16th.
After such a late start, I managed to leave the hotel around 1:00pm, heading for Ocean Terminal and too many memories.
I used to have terrible waves of homesickness in Roseburg, imagining Alan & I in Costa at OT, drinking our coffee, eating a lemon slice. Well, today I did it in real life and it nearly killed me. It was one trip I knew I had to make--the other being Cramond where I just can't go right now. There was hardly a week in years and years that we didn't end up at OT, either for coffee, or the movies, or the bookstore.
I drank my coffee, had my lemon cake, and somehow--maybe because so many tears were shed last night--managed NOT to cry for a change, though it was close. I could just see Alan sitting across from me at the little round table, licking his finger to gather up the last cake crumbs, not wasting a thing, while I scoffed and said, "Oh for heaven's sake, Alan, could you not do that in public?" He would smile at me and keep right on doing it until that plate was sparkling clean. He loved to wind me up...but he also loved that lemon cake.
I walked up to the top level so I could look out over the view. A view I know like the back of my hand. Killed me. Cramond is just out of view to the left; I could clearly see the Ochils; the manor house on the hill in Fife Alan always said was mine (and remember that drive one Sunday when we searched and searched for the road that led to that house?? You were so clever, and smug, when you found it). Today is a beautiful sunny day, and Fife looks so lovely and green; Inchcolm and the Abbey shining in the blue waters of the Forth; two big freighters heading out to sea; the blue, blue Scottish sky.
Struggled with all my being not to break down. I can't believe how much more I miss Alan with each day that passes. It's not getting better, or easier.
Went into Waterstones, bought some cards, then hightailed it out of Ocean Terminal without going to any more shops. I was barely holding it together and two breakdowns in public are just about my limit--I hope.
I originally tried to take the bus to OT, but ended up finding a cab after several attempts to snare the right bus. I did take the bus back to the hotel though, and enjoyed riding on the upper level, looking at Leith, though again, Alan is everywhere. During the course of our ten+ years I doubt there are many places in Edinburgh we haven't been together.
I made it to my room before I totally and completely lost the plot. Bawled like a baby and for a wee bit there wasn't sure I could/would stop. The aching, agonizing, lost feeling just completely overshadows everything.
Called my sister, though didn't connect. A good thing really as I broke down before I finished leaving a message. Told her I would call later and not to worry, regardless of my tears, I was doing fine.
Jack and Alice had invited me out to dinner for tonight, but I'd sort of put them off because of my wish to spend the day alone. Jack had called however whilst I was out and when I called back, it just seemed like the right thing to do. Besides we three had not really spent alone time together and I could use their company after such a day. Jack said they would come around 5:15 or so and we would go out to Ratho to a lovely country inn that he and Alice have loved going to for many a year.
So. While I wait for my pick up, I'm sitting here in my room, having a nice cuppa, and bringing my journal up to date of the past few days...
My emotional hurricanes are just annihilating me. I'm trying very had not make any decisions, or judgments, or do anything other than just go with the flow and take everything in. Unfortunately, what appears to be happening--more and more as time goes by--is the tears are flowing and I'm taking in waves of loss and loneliness! Is that the point of this journey? God, I hope not.
Being here--being back home--has been good on the "familiarity with Edinburgh" side of things, but so brutal and devastating on the "miss my husband, where is Alan?" side of it all. I don't know what to do, or what to think, or where to go. All I really want is that we had never left in the first place, I was busy making dinner right now at the house in Cramond, Ozzy was outside barking at whoever dares walk past his gates, and Alan would come into the kitchen, snuggle in behind me, and give me one of his bone-melting hugs while I squirmed and giggled and told him to go away, I'm trying to cook here, silly man.
How can one wee heart keep breaking over and over and over again???????????
It makes me so sad to re-read this whole episode. It was bad enough to experience it firsthand, but that weekend was so bittersweet. I longed for Alan, for my old life, and felt such sadness, but it was interspersed with joy at being with family and friends, being home in Edinburgh, sharing memories and stories about Alan which brought me comfort, gave me support.
If any of you are still reading, things get better and I don't crack up anymore. Those three days--Friday through Sunday--were killer though, no question.
In the next entry, Monday was the worst monsoon weather day of all time, I had lunch with Lorna, Morag fell and ended up in the hospital and--well, I'll continue tomorrow, but if it's any consolation? I had to go back to the States on Thursday, so things are coming to an end shortly, no matter what...