No Great Loss . . .

I re-sketched the thumbnail from the other day and added ink and watercolor. I am proud of this piece because it is the first one that I did totally on my own: finding a building I wanted to draw, working through the perspectives, and layering colors, etc with no outside guidance. It’s a beautiful home one block away and I never noticed it in 30+ years! It’s tucked into a little dead end street next to the school, and I just never walked that way or if I did, never stopped to really look. 




Day four of morning walking. Vic and I headed out at 8 o’clock this morning for our walk. I way overdressed and on the way home Vic carried my coat. I could have carried it myself, but Vic wanted to do it, so I gave in and gave it to him. He is a very very thoughtful man. I think it really bugs him that his role as protector and provider has gotten smaller. So, anything he can do, he’s pretty persistent in doing. He worries if I drive after dark, so even if he’s comfortable in his chair or busy with something, he always stops and goes with me. He insists on carrying all the groceries in himself, doing the laundry, washing the dishes. He’s always been a little like that, but he was so busy before that he wasn’t around all that much. Now, we’re together 23 hours and 20 minutes a day. (I took off a few minutes for bathroom breaks.) 

It’s our life. And it’s a good one, but very different from the decades that came before. We’re both very independent people. Vic didn’t blink an eye (or at least not where I could see) when I left for England for 10 months on my own. He was supportive of me living most of the summer months at our little place in Bushnell and just visiting when he could. I never blinked when he was gone for days driving a truck or taking the scouts to the Grand Canyon camp outs. I never blinked when he went on a solo hikes, or when he came home from work and
went immediately for a long run. 

Now, we shuffle along, always together. We make jokes, point out things that we see, talk about how awful Trump is, how great our kids and grandkids are. We cook and clean together, read together, travel everywhere together, take turns watching each others’ favorite TV show. We make room for each other in a thousand ways. It’s good. 

I used to read the Little House Series to my kids when they were little, and the folks in the book had a saying that I hold close these days: No great loss without some small gain. 

So, when the hordes of blackbirds ate their crops one season, they went without the harvested wheat for making bread and for selling at market, but they ate blackbird stew and blackbird pie, etc. 

No great loss without some small gain.

Vic in particular had lost a lot. We both have. Yet, we have gained dozens of small things. Walking together in the morning, cleaning up together after breakfast—we’re like a well-oiled machine now—talking over coffee and hot tea in the middle of the day, listening to books or podcasts together as we travel to yet another doctor appointment. 

A week ago, Vic looked at me as we were shuffling along somewhere and he said, “We make a good team.” 

Yes, we do. 




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