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.