2022 Sunday — Miles of View

On this next to last Sunday in August, this has been a lovely day in the neighborhood.

We enjoyed a high overcast till late afternoon when the sky turned blue; the ocean has looked soft like a lake, and the quiet has been more than peaceful up here on the hill.

The band at the Sea Shanty restaurant a few blocks away, punctuated the air with smooth tunes from days long ago: “White Rabbit,” “Blue Bijou,” and “Silver Threads & Golden Needles.”
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Thirty-nine years ago this date was also a Sunday. The announcement came that ripped a tear in my heart that has never stopped bleeding. Mom was 57 years young. Too young to die. The last 9 months of her life were filled with doctors, hospitals, and chemo treatments. I've never regretted that she didn't have to suffer one more day. I have a great peace about her "forever." She loved God with all of her heart. It's the missing her that never goes away. There are many days that the "missing" just rides along as a quiet passenger in my life, and then an important day arrives -- birthdays, anniversaries, births of grandbabies, graduations -- and those days roar across the screen of my life like a speeding train that won't be ignored, whipping up emotions that had idled. Then the "missing" is intense.

Rosie (& Mr. Fun), aka Carol
and Chloe & Mitzi too!