I figure, if I’m here for another few days, I may as well take a tour. My thigh is not hurting too bad. It is also not bleeding anymore. I’m lucky.
After heading outside, I find a tennis court. I then see stables in the distance and horses around the lake.
I enjoy walking around the calm waters and the vast, gentle grounds.
Being away from big cities makes me think about my future and what I want out of my life.
Several gardeners in uniforms work on a formal garden in the distance. They prune rose bushes, which appear to be old, long-stemmed roses.
I say hello, walk about, and smell some of the buds.
Even if it feels like a stuffy prison inside, with Grumpy being cold and inhuman, outside is calming and welcoming.
Two horses come up, and I pat them before walking on. The horses follow me, clearly seeking attention or the touch of another. They nuzzle me for pats; they are cute and playful.
I decide I like the chestnut one because the black and taller of the two keeps his distance like it is him. No doubt it is his.
As I walk back under the trees, I call my mom.
We talk for a while, and she tells me she is well. She always puts on a strong front, but she’d been an orphan and had a tough upbringing.
It is likely a common trait, and I shower her with love, as she does to me.
Mom chats away, as always, about how much she loves teaching piano and doing the odd TV series in LA. She often teaches actors how to play piano for roles. She does, however, dislike her day job in an office.
She sounds exhausted, but the office job enables her to play piano and do what she loves. She is clearly burning out, so I tell her to hang in there. She has always refused help, but every few months, I’ve sneaked a few thousand into her mortgage account to bring it down. Mom is a creative type, and not so great with accounts.
That’s oddly good because she doesn’t realize money is going in. Otherwise, she’d flatly refuse the money and send it back.
As I walk on around the lake edge, geese lift off the water.
I message my brother, as he is into messages more than calls. I give him his space, and he gives me mine. My brother is a good kid, but moving so much while young was hard on him, just like it was hard on me.
He hung out with the wrong kids for a while, but now, he is in the zone. As he started to study architecture, he slowed down and found his flow.
You okay, kid?
Yep, you?
Yes, and thanks for asking.
Glad you left the dick.
Yep, and thanks for the heads up. Next time I’ll be more careful.
Good girl, sis. NY fun?
Yep, and peaceful.
Good. So, no dicks?
I think of ten ways to answer that.
Not anymore.
Then good luck. Miss you!
Love you Kiddo.
