3 years.

When I woke up this morning, it occurred to me that I have lived in this house for exactly three years.  That's 1095 days, give or take a few days when we've been out of town.  That's 36 months and 7 percent of my life.  That doesn't sound like very much, does it?  Well, here's another set of personal statistics:  I've been visiting this house for 63 percent of my life, spanning over 27 years.  Bill has been gone slightly over 8 months.  That's a wee bit more than 2 percent of my life.  But, that same 8 months also represents 22 percent of the total time we've lived here.  So to sum it up, I've been familiar with this house for 66 percent of my life, have lived here for 7 percent of my life, and lived without Bill for 2 percent of my life.  I've been alone here for nearly 25 percent of the total time we've called this our home.

Give me a calculator and a few spare minutes and I can figure out anything!

I'm glad Bill was able to spend a few years where he loved to be, doing what he loved to do.  Not everyone has the opportunity to accomplish that.  Certainly, his desire to live a quiet and simple life (rather than a life spent chasing after self-importance and hoarding of material goods) allowed him to accomplish this goal.

I only wish those numbers above could read differently.  I'd love for him to see the Maple trees change colors and drop their confounded leaves (on the roof and in the gutters) again.  I'd love for him to watch the corn tasseling in the garden.  The baby chicks grow into real egg-laying ladies.  Little black calves born.  Flowers grow and then wither in the late summer heat.  Spotted fawns turn into young bucks sporting velvet horns.  Girls grow up and begin their own amazing lives.  Boys grow taller than their own Dad.  New drivers.  New achievements.  New memories made over simple pleasures. I'd love to have him see my hair get a little grayer with each passing year.  Sitting on the front porch.  Together.  Just watching and laughing and living.

I guess I'll just have to be content with my 63 percent.  If I had to do it again with the knowledge that there would never be more than 63 percent......

you can be certain that I would indeed.  Because, after all, isn't 63 better than 62?