This year, my husband almost died. My mom almost died. At the same time. For awhile I was running between hospitals. Then for the entire summer, we spent a lot of hours in hospitals and doctor's offices.
Both are fine now, fingers crossed.
We decided to move my 94-year-old mom in with us. Through the spring, we searched for a house with an in-law apartment, put a deposit on a one which we thought met our needs, an antique house with an in-law suite -- in spite of powder post beetle issues (which I always want to call powder puff beatles. If f I had a band, I'd name it that). The week of our closing was the week my husband almost died. I put a whoa on the house buying. We lost our $18,000 deposit.
Bummer, right? Actually not. We took a second look at another antique house with an in-law apartment, which we hadn't seriously considered as it was on the other side of the Valley. But the price had dropped $55,000. It was in far better shape than the first house. It already had a barn for my horse. We bought it, and saved money, even after the lost deposit. And it is odd in another way. One of my students had seen a photo of it on my Facebook page, and said it reminded her of the house in my book, Reve's house at the Five Corners. She asked if I drew it to me writing the Hawley Book of the Dead. And I have to say, I guess I did.
My writing has been on hold, what with all the almost dying, then the moving. But here I find myself, in my dream house, ready to plunge into Dreamland again, my mom fixing her hair in her nice apartment, my husband sitting across from me, his hair in the Baby Huey updo it gets after he's been rumpling it up as he writes.
I couldn't be happier. I couldn't be more grateful for all the magical turn-arounds of the past year. If nothing else, this year has taught me that magic really does exist, that some force in the universe, or our guardian angels, or whatever gods may be, ultimately take care of us, and place us on the right path, even kicking and screaming.
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