My mother hangs on. No one can tell me that Welsh women aren’t tough. Her hearing and memory aren’t good, but one thing has not failed, her luck at cards.
We went shopping yesterday and you can tell where our mind set is. My son bought rain outerwear for fishing and I bought lures. I did stray off that theme long enough to buy my mom some summertime slippers. She tried them on, loved them, and put them in the closet. She’s the one who asked for slippers, and then turned right around and put the old, stained, ugly ones back on. Huh? Are you saving them for something? Gee Mom, you’re 95. Wear the new ones. You asked me to find them.
The bushes at Mom’s house are trimmed for the year. The windows are clean. The baby blue vacuum came out of its hidy-hole and got exercised. All is good here, as good as can be expected. We head home soon. The grandsons from Florida made it to Colorado, so there is plenty of fun to come.
My daughter and daughter-in-law read the first eight chapters of my new fantasy book and said it was “great” and “Your best writing yet.” That makes me feel pretty darn good. Those two don’t hesitate to critique me, so I am pretty confident they were shooting straight. Laying in bed last night, I thought of the ending line and had to make notes on my phone because my computer wasn’t in the room. When things start bubbling out in the middle of the night, I have to get it down because it most likely won’t be there in the morning. The delight when something comes out of the blue like that sure makes writing fun.
And so it goes….