When we left New York City (where Peter had lived since 1927, at age five, and where I began living in 1959), we never looked back, never missed living a city life. We closed that chapter permanently. Only the present moment is alive. We live our lives thinking we are always moving in a linear fashion. Just as the earth isn’t flat, our lives have a circle. We actually grow into the wisdom of embracing what is simple, appropriate and beautiful. We rearrange our environments and our work and family priorities to suit our realistic circumstances. We rebuild our new lives on the sustainable foundation of the past.
Miraculously, Cesar not only came to the rescue in March, but he also painted the study bright white after making the ceiling new. I gave Peter’s writing desk to a playwright, Michael, who is already writing a new play in his sunroom. I am seated at the same exact spot at my beloved French Provincial desk (Peter and I bought them in Provence) where the ice dam rained down on my head, neck and back. Recently a journalist friend asked me where I like to write. Today, writing you, I choose to be here, in my new space. I feel cozy, emotionally beautiful as I think how every experience in our lives teaches us about ourselves.
Without the ice dam and Cesar emptying the study of everything except my huge desk, I never would have had the new happy place that I’m now drawn to and love. This sense of openness and simplicity is exhilarating. I’m utterly relaxed, calm and pleased to be here; at the same time I’m full of beans, giddy happy I have this newfound spirit of place and energy to fully absorb its magnificence. Rather than looking at Peter’s empty desk, by removing it, I’m empty and full.