You know that feeling when you've done something the same way for, oh, decades, and then suddenly it’s just… gone? Like, the rhythm of your day is just ripped out from under you. You find yourself doing the same motions, you know, reaching for the empty space next to you in bed, or making two cups of coffee when you only need one now. And it’s not even a big deal, really, it’s just these little things, these tiny almost-habits that used to be so central. Like, this morning, I was walking the perimeter of the south field, just like I always did with him, and I caught myself almost asking if he’d noticed the coyote tracks near the creek bend. And then I stopped, mid-sentence, just… talking to the wind. And yeah, it’s sad, obviously. But then, you know, this other feeling creeps in. And here’s the thing, the real thing, the actual confession part that makes me feel like a complete monster. Sometimes, just sometimes, walking those fields alone, with no one to check in with, no one to share every little observation with… sometimes it feels a little bit like… freedom. Like, I can walk this whole damn property in my pajamas if I want to, and no one’s going to say a word about it. I can let the gate stay open for five extra minutes if I feel like it. And the worst part is, I almost laugh when I think it. Like, what a terrible thing to feel, right? You miss someone desperately, their absence is a physical ache, but then there’s this little whisper in your head, like a tiny, awful, triumphant sound. It’s just… you spend so long sharing every thought, every little piece of your life, that you forget what it’s like to just… exist for yourself. And it’s not like I wanted him gone, not for a SECOND. But after 40-something years of "us," sometimes "me" feels kind of… new. And honestly, a little exciting. And that’s the part you can’t tell anyone. Because then you’re not just grieving, you’re a terrible person. And who wants to be that? So yeah, sometimes you just walk the land alone, feeling both completely lost and completely… unbound. It’s a messed-up joke, really, the universe having a laugh. And I can’t tell if I’m laughing with it or at myself. Probably both.