In the middle.
Having left one place (not necessarily geographic); and it will take as long again to complete this particular journey. We are mid-way between fleeing slavery and receiving instruction.
Late afternoon, I received a call from one of my students from the last class, "Not In Shul", informing me that she and her partner were coming over with some plants for my garden. What a kindness and a delight! And what a gift: herbs, flowers for the hummingbirds and bees.
I attended celebrations both at the nearby Chabad and at another joint two-congregation bash: food, frolicking children, dance.
On the way home I parked at Viele Lake to walk just at dusk.
I passed three women with two large wagging dogs pulling them forward on their leashes.
"Dogs taking you for a walk?" I asked.
"Yes," one replied; "and we're so well-behaved!"
I stood on the small bridge looking out at the last light in the sky reflected on the water, swallows swooping beneath to their nests; and suddenly I was sobbing, missing Zalman so intensely. The two of us used to stop just there, looking over the water towards the last light behind the mountains just like I was doing now, alone. I continued over the bridge, and heard a voice: "Ma'am are you all right?"
Around the farther end, just off the bridge, a young man was fishing, and looking up at me with concern.
I thanked him for his kindness; "Yes," I managed to say, "I just miss my husband."
And this is so so true.
I am managing.
I am even manging decently.
I still have friendships, I still cook, I still write and teach and do laundry and laugh.
I still love the cats, and my friends.
And I still miss him with all my heart.