Melancholy Florida Montage

It was a melancholy morning this morning. I didn't go to work. I didn't follow my normal routine. I listened to The Call by Regina Spektor and stood in each room of my house and let the memories flow.

It felt like a movie moment where there is a montage of people hugging, kissing, crying and remembering some unfortunate character so as to move the story along.

I experienced something like this before when I flew to Indiana for my father's funeral. The first night I was there my family didn't sleep. I walked out to the field in front of my parent's house while the sun was rising and took it all in.

I saw my dad mowing the lawn and fertilizing the grass in the backyard. I looked to the west of the house and saw him clearing out the brush in the woods. He was working in the garden and getting out of his van. I sat with him on the porch while he lit the torches the last night that I spent with him. He walked down the driveway to visit my grandpa.

As I am now standing in the bedroom in Florida I see my husband working in his studio. We are sitting on the couch and watching a movie. I see myself laying on the bed while my mother and husband care for me after the loss of our child. I am answering the phone on July 26 when Kristen told me my father wasn't breathing and they were trying to revive him.

I have experienced so much here in Florida. I have learned so much. Staring at the empty rooms, I am not quite sure what to feel. I will leave it there for now.