“He’s so precious!”
We were sitting in the lobby of the long-term care facility where my aunt now resides. We were spending the morning with her and we wanted to get her out of her room, bring her somewhere else, so she could watch people and we’d already determined that the wind was too much for her outside.
Suddenly a voice spoke and my head jerked upward at the words.
Who was that? Whom were they referring to? Who was just so precious?
The lady who spoke walked over toward my father who was sitting to my left.
“I’m going to give you a hug,” she said.
Then she blew kisses to us all and went on her way. It was time for lunch.
Sunday: Happy 18th Birthday Malala!
For a strong example of what truly matters in this world and the greatest hope we have for the future.
Malala Yousafzai has been through hell and back and is fighting using words and education, against the violence and hatred shown toward her, to come out on the other side to fight for–
sounds like the best idea I’ve ever heard.
That is the outcry and the call to action of one tough young woman.
Monday: first dates sometimes lead to second ones.
For the chance to meet someone new.
It’s not so easy, for me at least, to find someone I can talk to and click with.
I am grateful for a connection made and a new friend, at the very least.
Wednesday: Happy Second Anniversary Bri.
For selfless angels who give the ultimate gift and for the strength shown from their family too.
On July 15th, 2013, my brother received a kidney from a selfless angel.
I’d watched him attached to dialysis machines and unwell, unable to move forward with his life for years.
Finally, he could start to live his life again.
For a long awaited release and a dream of mine that I have now checked off my bucket list.
On my blog I wrote about my short story and the reason why I wrote about love, loss, and starting over.
I am very proud of my story and the anthology it can be found in.
After the Scars: A Second Chances Anthology
Thursday: sometimes travel brings unexpected things.
For the unexpected stop on a road trip.
Me and a giant apple.
Enough said.
For old buildings and holding onto history.
I have always had a a phobia of old places and things. I remember it from an early age. Visiting a local pioneer village was not my idea of fun. I disliked secondhand stores and antique shops.
Now I try to introduce myself to the past because it matters.
On my latest few days away I stayed in a bed and breakfast, an old house which has been turned into a lovely place to stay.
Where I stayed was up on the second floor. It had two bedrooms, a full kitchen, and small sitting room. Plus, it had a nice porch.
This house would have been over 100 years old. It felt very homey and comfortable, even for someone as picky as myself. I slept well there and stood at the window, in the morning, enjoying the warm sunshine on my face.
Friday: life does not stand still and we all age.
For another chance to visit with my aunt. She’s not in an ideal situation. She is unable to take care of herself now and must be in a long-term care facility.
I worry about her there, for her days of endless monotony. She will be there for the rest of her life, more than likely. I wish she wouldn’t have to.
For the chance to have met her, made possible by my parents, who believed that distance (whether physical or emotional) shouldn’t prevent family from getting to know each other.
My family visited her several times over the past 25 years and made some memories I’ll always cherish.
I hope, if she can hold onto a memory, that she remembers that we care, always.
For a lovely lunch, provided by my cousin.
She is full of energy and so is her daughter. They offered lovely conversation and a delicious meal.
I’d never had a dill pickle wrap before.
I’m glad we got to know them and could spend the afternoon together, catching up.
For a spectacular view, even if I can’t see it and must take other people’s word for it.
We ate our lunch at the golf course, with an amazing view of the Ottawa River in the background.
I can not see these views anymore, but I can imagine them and I can feel their presence. I will never forget or take that for granted.
Whether it’s the woman from my story earlier, girls wanting an education, the little anecdotes revealed when entering into any new relationship, or a book of stories (part fiction and part non) we all have inside our imaginations – I am grateful for my own and for the learning and discovering of others.
Her Headache 
