My dearest Dahlin',
Apparently I need to get better about writing to you, because I looked back and realized my last post was August 19. It's only been three weeks, but somehow I've managed to cram quite a bit of living into them. The biggest thing was finally getting to go home to Louisiana for a few days. I had doctor appointments and other things to take care of, but mostly I was ready to see my people. After spending so much time in New York, it felt good to be home, although Louisiana was more than happy to remind me just how HOT it is down there. I got my hair done, got some much-needed attention paid to this old body, spent time with family, and then turned around and headed right back north. There's something strange about that now. Louisiana is still home, but when I came back to Ellicottville, this little apartment felt a little like coming home too. I guess I've managed to make myself a life in two places.
Since coming back, I've settled right back into work - dealing with my overgrown toddlers, paperwork, PPE, observations, reports, and all the other things that somehow find their way to my desk. The project has been extended for a little bit longer now, which gives me a little more breathing room and a few more paychecks to throw at this mountain of debt. I'm still hoping Barnhart decides there's a permanent place for me somewhere after this project ends. The funny thing is, I don't feel nearly as much like an imposter anymore. I still have plenty to learn, but somewhere along the way I quit feeling like I was pretending to work in Safety and started realizing that I actually DO work in Safety. I write the reports. I fuss at the guys. I recognize things in the field that I wouldn't have noticed a year ago. I still have moments when I wonder what in the world I'm doing, but I suppose that's probably true for most people whether they admit it or not.
Of course, being back in New York meant getting back to wandering. Labor Day weekend gave me the perfect excuse. I packed up the CR-V and took off toward the Finger Lakes for a couple of days of waterfalls, back roads, history, and whatever else caught my attention. Saturday was waterfalls, wandering and whatnot. Sunday turned into women's rights, waterways, and a little Wonderful Life. I wandered around Seneca Falls, visited the Women's Rights National Historical Park, saw the bridge associated with It's a Wonderful Life, explored some of the history around the Erie Canal, stopped at Sampson State Park, drove along Canandaigua Lake under one of those ridiculously pretty New York skies, and found all sorts of little things I hadn't planned on seeing. That's becoming my favorite kind of trip - the ones where I have a general direction but enough freedom to turn down a road just because I want to know what's there. I found it a little poetic, too, that here I am at 59 years old, building a career in a very male-dominated industry, and I somehow spent part of my Labor Day weekend learning about the women who fought for the right to have a voice of their own. I don't think I would've appreciated the significance of that nearly as much when I was younger.
My knees, unfortunately, are still trying their best to interfere with my plans. Some days they behave fairly well, and other days they remind me very loudly that they're still in charge. I've been doing some hip and leg exercises, and I actually had a couple of days when I could walk faster, felt steadier, and had very little pain or popping. Then I skipped the exercises for a couple of days and, wouldn't you know it, everything started tightening back up. So apparently this is one of those irritating situations where the thing that helps only works if I actually KEEP DOING IT. Imagine that. I'm trying, though. There is still entirely too much of New York that I want to see to let these knees park me in the apartment.
Looking back over these last few weeks, I think the biggest thing I'm noticing is just how different my life has become. I go to work on a wind farm in New York, spend my weekends chasing waterfalls and history, occasionally sleep in my car because apparently I've lost my mind, and somehow Louisiana and New York both feel a little like home now. This certainly isn't the life we planned, Charlie. I would've much rather grown old with you, taking these trips together and fussing over which road we were supposed to turn down. Almost every weekend I see something and think, You would've loved this. But maybe that's part of how you still come along with me. I can miss you terribly and still enjoy where I am. I can wish things had turned out differently and still be curious about where this strange road is taking me. So I guess I'll keep following it and see where it goes.
I sure wish you were riding shotgun.
Love and miss you muchly,
Me
