As I write this, it’s 8:56 a.m., early for me. I’m up in Bill Fuller’s study, which is located above the carport. I got up a short while ago and gravitated in this direction, not expecting to end up here. I thought the study door would be locked. Amazingly, it was unlocked. So I pushed open the door and walked in to what was once Bill Fuller’s private sanctuary.
Bill’s study is, amazingly, a lot like my study – it’s full of things that were once important to him, books and personal memorabilia included. I think that if he were to walk in the door behind me, that he’d pause, smile, and immediately start rearranging stuff. But the reality is that my elderly friend, who died five years ago, has taken on another life form. I know because I helped sprinkle his ashes – we cast them to the wind while up in the bed and breakfast tower.
He passed on five or so years ago. I still miss him something awful. Yes, I know that he was not the best husband to Nancy, who is still here, and perhaps I should be more judgmental. But Bill had a creative streak that I greatly appreciated and admired. He was a musician, an actor, a dancer. He also had a love of words and language. |
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I once remarked to him that perhaps we knew one another in a past life, and got a blank look in return. I later came to understand that Bill believed we had just one life, and should love that one life to the fullest. Hence, some of the memorabilia that is still contained in this study. There’s the macular degeneration eye chart, a book on improving one’s memory, and a strength building chart.
Someone has put awards and accolades in this room. I suspect that Bill would ditch this stuff, because it would mean little to him. These objects make this room seem more like a shrine than a study.
In time, the adjoining house will be sold and the objects in this study will be parted out and moved elsewhere. It’s time I move on. I will leave here and close the door behind me, of course not latching it.
267. 09/1/12: Returning Home |