Bittersweet

We went to the cottage on Saturday. The little neighbor boy immediately ran outside to play with the other children. They, in turn, invaded his tree house, doused him with water balloons and scarfed up his toy tractors.

He is far more reticent and well behaved than my gang.

His mother came out later to talk to me about the sale of the cottage. They are hoping to buy it.

"It's bittersweet, she said, because H was so very excited to see you all today." She kept herself from saying, "and you won't be coming anymore."

"Those boys are back!" he'd exclaimed, happily (H and J are only a month apart in age).

Consider it all joy.

Ohhhhhh, it's so hard. I find myself with far more bitter thoughts than sweet ones as I mow, weed, and drive.

I can't focus.

My phone seems to be ringing off the hook. There's another buyer interested. My brother texts to find out the status of things. I need to clean out the cottage shed, including kayaks left there by friends. Carpenter ants are eating up the wood in the bathroom there. A laundry list of things to do and an even longer grocery list.

Garbage bags, ant poison, polyurethane for the walls, wood glue for the broken bed.

It would even seem that someone is using the cottage without permission. We found items strewn about, the faucet taken apart, tools left out on the counter top.

Joy.