My New Hat

I'm wearing a hat all the time nowadays, but it's similar to the emperor's new clothes. You can't see it. I can't even see it, but I can feel it. Constantly.

It's sadness. My sadness hugs my head like a cloche. I'm feeling so alone and missing the babies. Phone calls and cards aren't enough.

I had a delightful visit last Sunday with my dear friend Judy, who was my closest friend in D.C. There is a gift of music between us that's rare and wonderful. She is encouraging me to move to Sarasota, and I'm tempted. United flies direct from Tampa to Pittsburgh, and for a reasonable price(!). I love Sarasota, having spent two years there when the boys were two and four. But I really wouldn't be in any different position that I am here. I would have friends, I would have a job, I would have a home. But I wouldn't have family. (But I could get to my family easily. Is that enough of a change to make the move worthwhile?)

I came away from the weekend in Orlando just thinking and feeling that I want to be in Youngstown.

My boss told me this week that she has something up her sleeve for me. She knows of a job that's open and she's recommending me for that position. I would be her peer - a web strategist. I would still be a contractor, but I'd be working for a woman in Los Angeles, so it wouldn't matter where I lived. I could live in Tucson until I sell the houses, then I could live wherever I want. This is very intriguing, and something over which I have no control, so I must just keep putting one foot in front of the other and doing a good job to gain more accolades.

Tomorrow, Easter, I will take off my sadness hat and put on a sunny Easter hat. And a great big Easter basket of thanks to my friend Gail Remaly who has invited me to join her family for Easter dinner.

If there's still snow on the ground where you're reading this, I send you a virtual bouquet of daffodils!