I wanted to go to Tahoe to be alone. I’d had an intense few weeks with multiple house guests then, a three day soccer tournament in Southern, California. I also wanted to clean the house.
Cleaning the Tahoe house, for me, is like washing your first car. I’m so grateful to have it that I never mind making the beds, washing, folding and stacking fresh towels, or even cleaning the beautiful cherrywood floors.
It’s also a meditation for me. I listen to music and I am grateful for every beautiful memory I’ve had there.
After, driving three hours, I was surprised to find myself passing my house and driving straight to the place where we spread my husband’s ashes. As a Catholic and traditional person, this is not what I would have wanted for him, but it wasn’t my choice, and I respected his wishes, and did what he asked.
Of course, the beach was quiet as the thunder, rain and hail had chased everyone, away. Polly, my dog and I sat there for a while, and I thought, “Now what?”
Now what indeed. The next day, I cleaned the house from top to bottom, packed up and left.
Sydney 