Saturday, November 5, 2016


It was a day for reflections of one kind or another.  A wonky leg pretty much put me out of commission so I had plenty of time to think.  Waiting for the telephone landline repairman meant I couldn't go anywhere even had I wished to.  "We are committed to having repairs finished by 6 p.m.," the recorded message reassured me.  At 4 p.m. I received a text message saying I hadn't made the cut and had been rescheduled for Monday, another day shot.

Bess and I moved from indoors to outside; porch, deck in the sunshine, deck in the shade.  This photo from the front porch doesn't show what I'd hoped, the reflection of sunlight on rain-washed leaves shining like bits of hammered metal, but it's pretty and green, just the same.

Eleven years.  How can it possibly be that Steve died eleven years ago?  At the time, I wasn't sure I could make it through the next day, let alone a year.  I had to break it down to manageable sections, get through the next minute and let the minutes add up behind me.  Thanks to my Kids, extended family, friends, and the animals in my care, I've now got eleven years to reflect on, as well as the eighteen years (nineteen altogether) I had with Steve.

It is my feeling that not every day is good, but there is something good in every day.  It was a good day.