I haven’t had the words. Since October, my spare time has been occupied with lawyers and realtors, packing and cleaning, calling creditors, signing official documents and figuring out taxes. Going to doctor appointments (my thyroid nodule is benign, though it’s still enormous).

The house I grew up in, the place I gardened since I was a tiny child and hunted for raspberries with my grandpa, the house I lived in after he passed away, the place that was always home, sold last month. It sold to a developer, who will tear down trees and trample gardens, replacing the house with something big and ugly and expensive.

But it was also the last of the estate work. The last major thing that’s been hovering over my head.

So now I get my time back, and I get to breathe again.

The hard part is figuring out how to do that.