I am an empty-nester, mother. Not only have my children moved on with their lives, but my husband and I sold our nest and moved ourselves away from all that was familiar to us.
The reasons for this move were part economic and part desire to create something new in a warmer climate.
As my husband and I tried to adjust to our new life in the Ozark farmland we had chosen, our friends and family waited and watched to see how things would play out.
I had my horse to ride and acquired two miniature donkeys so he would not be lonely. I had my two toy poodles and a parrot to tend to, but human companionship for me was scarce. Unfortunately, the shock of the separation from home and family was more terrible for me to absorb than I thought it would or could be. Intermixed with this part of life, my parents died. First my mother and then my sweet father.Too soon, I found out what the word languish really meant. I discovered what sad and lonely felt like and almost knew depression.
I tried square dancing, gardening, photography, working out and other venues, but my discontent and sadness grew. My husband often said that people who do nothing to change their lives usually wait until they have to make a decision..."Decision by indecision."
Not wanting to wait until I was a crazed and pathetic woman, I decided to act. Around the three-year mark from the date we moved, my husband and I put our beautiful home and farm up for sale. I had to part with my beloved horse, Sage and the donkey boys. My husband and I, the dogs and the parrot now reside at our condo near Branson, MO.
At times, the pain of undoing has been almost unbearable. There are few do-overs in life...but, I can say that I still have a sense of humor somewhere inside and I am focused on living and will not crawl under the covers and wait for something or someone to rescue me.
I look at this time as the beginning of what I ended. In that I can find some hope.
Today, as a wonderful pot of Italian beef simmered, the house was filled with an aroma that brought clear memories of my childhood ...the unmistakable fragrance of my mother's cooking brought a warmth and comfort that was almost better than a hug.
I know that when my children's homes have familiar foods cooking, they cannot help but remember me...us.
In light of that, I will try to post a daily, favorite recipe...my treasures...their inheritance.
I would love to know if the recipes are tried by others and if they love them as I do.
I hope this isn't too selfish.