Mothers’ Day.
I was reminded this week for the first time in a long time of all
the pain this day used to cause. It’s still there if I reach for
it. An echo of it hangs on, but time and grace have brought healing.
Grace. What the woman at the wine walk called Beth and I. Beauty and
Grace. I’ve never been paid a finer compliment by a stranger.
These days are so beautiful—nights still cool, but I can leave the
windows open.
Dave struggles, though. When days either bring the rain or the
promise of it, he breathes as though he’s underwater—heavy and
labored. As a result, he’s always tired. I should have expected
this, but didn’t. Summer will be hard for him. He’ll have to stay
in air conditioning all the time. So grateful we have it.
image; kingofwallpapers.com
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