Whole

 Whole

 To Sandy


And so she finally sold the house

As I knew she would eventually do.

The last one I lived in as a single dweller

And probably ever will live in.

We stood together on the driveway

And spoke of mortgages and closing dates.

Realtor fees.  Escrow.

Words I never mastered an understanding of

But which she recites like catechism.

Good for her.  She’s always known where she is

In relation to the world.  

I let her carry me through so much of that,

Point me in the right direction,

Tell me what to say and do,

And sometimes how.

Since being apart, I’ve had to learn all that for myself,

And I’ve done an imperfect job of it,

But I’ve survived.

Good for me.

 

She actually taught me how to mow a lawn,

This apartment dweller from birth.

I lived in a house, owned a home,

Only because of her.

Now she’s sold our last one.

Though I haven’t lived in it for many years,

Still it was mine.  Part mine at least.

Now that I don’t own a portion of it anymore,

I have less.

And less feels comfortable and real,

More real than anything in a long time.

Someone asked me recently, how does one become whole?

Yeah, I have conversations like that.

How does one become whole?

But we are always whole, I answered,

We are always whole

Even when we feel least like it.

We have to discover the way we’re whole, that’s all.

That’s all.  That’s everything.

Having less

Is the way of being whole

I discovered today.

One more gift from her.

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