A Speckled Trout

Dear Mark, This week marks eight years since you left this world for the next.

The seasons here in the Midwest can whipsaw you with its extremes, but like most places in the last ten years, what that looks like is undergoing massive change.

Early after Mark died when I was talking to my therapist, I asked how I could possibly fill the enormous hole in my life when so much of it revolved around the husband who was dead and what he did for a living.

When Mark and I moved to Kansas City 34 years ago, we thought of it as a 5-10 year stay and that once he got his career established we’d move to a city with a bigger university.

My retail background started years ago when I was shopping at my favorite store and the manager came up to me one day and asked me if I would be interested in working there.

Since the spring I feel like I have been living my life on a non-stop carnival ride.

Remember that story I wrote in March about making the decision to rent my sweet, little cape cod?

On the first phone call Mark ever made to me when sight unseen he was going to ask me out on a date, he told me that there was a full moon that night and I needed to see it.

When I arrived in first grade as a freckled-faced six year old, I was immediately overwhelmed.

If you were to ask me if I had a baby other than my three kids, I would tell you that I most certainly did and it was the house Mark and I bought 34 years ago.