No Spirit Left

I went into The Mother's bungalow on the first day of her officially living elsewhere. It somehow wasn't the same. She asked me what her bungalow was like now. I told her I hadn't moved anything much since the day she left over a week ago. I summed it up by saying it was just a building with some things in, there was no spirit left, she had moved out.

There certainly was no spirit left! From this position where I would sit she would say "Pour us a drink!" There is no whiskey there now, nor the brandy she loved, she took that with her. I have washed all the glasses in her cocktail cabinet, they sparkle but the spark that was conversation here is no more.

I know it had to be. Things are working out for the best but it still hurts.

Sorry! My journal has to include difficult times. I have some fun things to look forward to, though!