A silvery cream moon heralds the night while the day blazes out in glorious pink over bluest blue in the west.
On the counter, lemon loaves glisten with a sweet and tangy glaze and cool on black wire racks; fruit of a Saturday hour or two in the kitchen.
The clock ticks away this July evening, cooler since yesterday's storm; measuring with its beat the passing moments.
Packed boxes line the walls downstairs and there are accessories of teal blue for Tori's room in their new home, and artsy black and red for Tippy's.
In the air there is anticipation; excitement; expectancy. But also something else; we miss them already.
The family downstairs, with their caboodle of pets is readying to leave and with them they will take part of our hearts.
And yet we know it is good that they go. We are with them in it and celebrate with them, the beautiful home of their own they go to.
Still this is a time of measuring the days. A time of sighing over what has been so precious and will be no more. We have only one more Saturday such as this before month's end. One more Saturday when a lemon loaf from upstairs makes its way downstairs and a granddaughter discovers it with delight. One more Saturday when Brenda makes her way upstairs with early morning coffee in hand to "chat." One more Thursday cell group evening when Tori arrives upstairs with the welcome words, "D'you need help?" and I laugh and say, as I always do, "I always need help!"
This is a moment of completely self indulgent mourning. There is no holding back change or time. This is when I remember the gift of unselfish love my own mum gave to me...and pass it on.