04/17/2026
There’s something about old houses… 🏛️
especially one built in 1809…
that refuses to let you disappear inside your own darkness.
In chemo 3, I went under.
Quietly. Disorienting.
Now, somewhere between chemo 4 and 5,
I can feel the return.
Not fully.
But enough.
Enough to choose where my energy goes ⚡️🪃
And maybe…
a reminder that time ⏰ is not as linear as we think.
Five or six weeks ago,
a visitor showed up at my door. 🚪
An American woodcock - I wrote about it.
Grounded. Unusual. Passing through.
I remember thinking…
you are not lost.
You are on a migration path. 🪶
Trying to make your way to the back of this property…
to land that has been held for over 200 years,
rich with life beneath the surface. 🪱
Historic visit meets modern visit.
And here I am too…
finding my way back.
——————————-
For a long time, my energy has gone to people.
Holding. Witnessing. Building. 🧠✨
But recently…
I’m choosing differently.
I’m putting energy into the house. 🗝️
————————-
Enter Jermaine.
Second generation woodworker. 🪵
He has been in this house before…
working alongside his father, years ago.
And just weeks before we met,
he was at the Florida Aquarium… 🌊
where my father in law once served as CEO
before he passed in 2017.
For my husband and I, that landed.
Not coincidence. Something else.
A reminder that we are souls meant to cross. ✨
For 3.5-ish weeks, we’ve been in collaboration - on the timing of this mission.
I didn’t do the work. He and his teammate did.
But I let him into the bones of this place.
And now…
the fourth floor is coming alive. ✨
I’ve done this before.
In 2020, during COVID,
we sold our family home and downsized.
Before finding what was next…
I poured everything into a cabin in Berkeley Springs. 🌲
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