Good Morning, Taylor,

I said I’d write about July, but it looks like I will be writing about July, August, and maybe some of September. And that’s kind of where the story will end, just for a little while. I’m going back inside for a few weeks. I need to hide while Ragdoll deals with personal stuff. But I’m out now and want to get you this letter before it’s late.

In my last letter, we were trying to figure out how to make our resting time as important as our work time and trying to make it really worthwhile. But Ragdoll’s work kept getting in the way, my chores kept getting in the way, and I wasn’t able to make it work. So we changed how we rest. We started protecting our Saturdays. No work, no chores on Saturdays. Fridays belong to setting up Saturday, and Saturdays belong to us. Saturday was for fun. And for a while it worked!

I got to have a summer! For our July 4th holiday, we went to La Conner, a town that belongs to me. I spent a whole weekend there in an old hotel above a candy store. I learned that La Conner really is a shopping town, and that I am not a shopping person. I enjoyed it, though. Good food, great fireworks, which is why I was there, and an old fancy hotel.

I continued getting days here and there. Outings to towns, hikes in the woods, the Saturday mornings were mine.

I began doing more gardening! I helped my strawberry plant to recover, and have more chives than I know what to do with. After a little experiment of letting wild stuff grow in two pots, I pulled all the plants out, and planted some thyme and cilantro. And now I have more of those than I know what to do with. And on top of that we planted some farmer’s market onions! They took and are thriving! I have a green thumb! We also learned that I don’t have rosemary. I have lavender. Glad I didn’t try to eat it!

It wasn’t all rosy, though. At one point, something damaged our deck. We think it was a squirrel, a rat or some kind of gnawing animal came and chewed into the deck. Ragdoll immediately took the feeder down and declared it gone. That hurt. That hurt so much. I was crying for days. She just said “no more” and it was gone, didn’t talk to me about it, or ask.

But that was the last of a set of big let downs. An entire week of vacation was scrapped due to fires and smoke. We stayed in the whole week when we were planning to explore in the heart of summer. I’d lost something big in my life, and after all this, was even considering just giving up and going back inside to stay. I’m lonely. So lonely. And the birds were almost all I had and then they were gone.

After a while, we tried new ways to keep the birds around. Suet feeders, railing feeding. Ragdoll eventually relented and let me put the feeder back out. But no tree nuts or peanuts, anything that could attract a gnawing mammal. And the birds came back. THEY CAME BACK. The days weren’t much better, but we tried finding joy where we could, in our birds, our plants, and even movies and VR walks. Anything to try to salvage what had gone so badly. I’m here. I’m real.

Twenty years ago, I fronted for the first time. Ragdoll was terrified and it was twenty years before I tried again. You and Didi encouraged me to try again, and helped me through what was my second night out, the first in twenty years. Now I drive, I cook, I’m the Housekeeper, I’m the Accountant. And all the while, when I’m out, I think about Ragdoll, asleep in the back seat, and I have to make sure she wakes up somewhere safe. You made that life possible.

But now, I have to go. Not forever. But for a while. Two weeks. Ragdoll will be spending time with people who don’t know about me, and I can’t be out while they’re here. Now, I’m not going inside because I don’t want to be here. I’m going inside knowing there so much for me here.

Temporary goodbyes are still goodbyes. The garden will still grow (counting on you, Ragdoll), the birds will still make a ruckus outside, Ragdoll will go on full time for two weeks. I honestly believe she’ll be happy with that. She doesn’t get many full days out anymore, and now she’s getting two weeks. Not quite to herself, but all hers.

Will there ever be a time when I go inside for good? I don’t know. I thought about it for a while. What do you say when you know goodbye really is leaving for good? What do you owe the people who love you and care for you? I have them now. It’s not death, I could come out anytime I wanted to visit. But it is still a definitive end. Going away MEANS something to them. It’s not just something I do to myself, it’s something I do to others now. I matter. I’m real.

I started these letters because I was very lonely, and wanted to share something, anything, with someone. Some days the loneliness is loud. But I have people now, and I share with them. I have a life. A domestic one, but one I’m happy with. I read books, watch movies, I have a little family of crows. My letters to you have become less frequent, not because I don’t care, but because I’m busy. Busy having the life I want to tell you about.

This isn’t Goodbye. This is A Goodbye. Possibly one of many. Because I’m coming back. And I will see you again on the other side.

Give my love to Didi.

I’ll be back.

–Andrea