I finally got my logs on…..the gas logs in my fireplace. I had them on once before, but last night I went through the turning knobs routine, got the pilot lit, then nothing happened. I went through the cycle a few times then gave up, out of fear of blowing myself (and more importantly, my beautiful yellow bungalow) to smithereens.
Tonight I just had to try again. The pilot lit easily enough. There’s a knob that you’re supposed to turn gradually to adjust the flame after the fire is lit. The fire wouldn’t light, but I decided to go for broke and turn that control knob all the way anyway and see what happened. What had scared me last night was not so intimidating tonight. I had reasoned that the problem was no gas coming through, so I probably would be safe in my experiment. I lit the pilot, pictured myself with brown cheeks and singed eyebrows, then gave that control knob a full throttle. Presto, gas fire!
It’s pleasant to sit here on the floor (no furniture til Wednesday), read, listen to my Pandora stations on my iphone dock and now do some writing. The holidays were merry and sweet, but it’s good to be “home”.
Like you, I’m wondering what the new year will hold. Tomorrow marks the fourth anniversary of Greg’s passing. Sheesh! Has it been that long? I certainly feel like I’ve been traveling a broken road, an emotional journey that has taken me to some dark, despairing places then circled back over itself to bring me back to the main highway. Does that make sense? I’m still way out of my comfort zone, anxious about the business to-do list on the kitchen counter, but I’m feeling more like a ground ball than a pop up. I may be clumsily bumping along, but at least it’s in a steady direction.
Today I visited a church for the second time, the church home of my best St. Pete friends. I’m meeting some other people there and feel like I fit in. I just wonder what life will look like this time next year.
I hope I can summon the courage to keep turning that control knob all the way to the left, come what may.
