Space. ❤️

What happens when you have a space that opens up in your life out of nowhere?

First, you spend time figuring out that space – how the edges tattered, how the walls crumbled. You take the shattered pieces, and you work them over.

Until you realize after more tries - more! - that THAT space was not yours at all. You weren’t seen or heard or honored in that space. You stayed in that space as long as you could, until you realized something else.

That YOUR space was a whole different story.

YOUR space.

Your space is peaceful. Your space is calm. Your space is loving.

Here, you talk to the friends you made on your own. You work with the people you worked with personally. You love the family that never filtered your relationship through anything or anyone except the holiday ham. The people in your life now are - and always were - kind, loving and supportive.

You know now that when you live your life outside of that old space, it’s peaceful. Damn, it’s so peaceful! What took you so long to choose YOUR space?

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YOUR SPACE

Your space, in your house, on a Tuesday night. Your kids are out with their friends. You and your husband are home alone. You don’t know why – you found out more of what had been done today – but, you feel like dancing.

You turn on the oldies country. You make little smokies wrapped in crescent rolls. You place the warm pan on top of the hot stove, and you eat standing over it, together, between songs. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, The Judds, Alan Jackson, Anne Murray.

“Only the slow ones,” you say.

He agrees.

It’s raining; a thunderstorm comes through. You open the back door to let the weather into your space – the scent of rain, the rumble, the drop in temp.

He pulls you in tighter, his rough beard on your forehead, your hand in his. He’s six inches taller than you. You stand on tippy toes to kiss his neck.

“Shivs!” he laughs.

He loves shivs.

John Conlee comes on.

“Remember?” you both say. It’s all you have to say about the night you two snuck into that country concert at the fairgrounds 28 years ago.

Then, a few songs in, you find your space.

He moves you around the kitchen with sudden ease, right up against the fridge, pivoting on a beat, turning you at the last moment back to the stove, then around the kitchen table, the length of it, then back again, never touching any of it.

The space is small for dancing; the space is limitless.

You dance for another half hour. You look up; it’s getting late. The kids will be home soon – to find their parents dancing, singing, dishes undone and cold food on the stove. You laugh.

“Is this empty nesting?” you ask.

“Hope so,” he says.

You look around at your space – tonight, it’s perfect. Now that you’ve cut the chaos and the drama out – it’s good. Everything has settled down. You no longer have stories of pain and confusion coming into the house at night. You are no longer focused outward. You’re focused inward, at what you have, here, in your hands. Your space now is better, quieter, calmer.

Tomorrow, you have a date with another couple to go see a band at the Open Space. Real friends, friends you made in your own space. You know you will laugh and dance together. You know you will be relaxed, singing.

You know why: Because you are in your own space.

It hits you then, with relief, that you had the sense - the intuition - to build a life outside of the chaos all along. You had made space, regardless of all that, for all this. A space where you have always been cherished. A space where you could truly be you. A space you have built with your own heart.

A space you still have.

And, as things unfold outside of your space – in that shared, sad space you once were a part of – you realize that’s not your space to worry about anymore.

You have your own space. Kind, beautiful, safe space.

A few minutes later, your youngest gets home. He grabs some smokies and flops on the loveseat. He doesn’t care that his parents are acting weird. You’re pleased to think this must mean you’re always weird.

“Guess what?” he says, launching into a story.

You turn the music down - to make space - for him. ❤️