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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.


Time, it does march on. Change, it does happen. Yesterday I went to the Bay shopping and was looking at clothes for the girls. I couldn't find anything in Ruby's size and then I discovered, with a horrible shock, that she's no longer in the little kids section. She's in 7 to 16. NO!!! How did that happen. This is a small change in my life but, wow, you've got a big change coming. You are a writer, take us all on the journey.
Belinda said…
Ahh, Dave, hold onto your wheelchair for the ride of your life with those girls. They take your heart and then they make it quiver: with joy; apprehension; pride; anguish;protectiveness--to name but a few small things. :)But you know that! :)
Anonymous said…
This is one of those bitter-sweet moments. The will to encourage them forward and the desire to hold them back and close. Of course moving ahead is "best" but...Think of the wonderful visits ahead. And as a daughter - I know you never stop needing your mother - so I'm sure you will be having coffee together, even if it is over the phone (as I do).
Belinda said…
Yes, "bittersweet" covers it friend. You hit it all on the head very well in your comment! :)
Marilyn said…
This was so wonderful, Belinda. :-)
Belinda said…
Thank you Marilyn! :)
Brenda said…
There will be no end to the visits and maybe, if it is at all possible they will become even more special... more treasured.... more coveted. I love you Mom!
Belinda said…
Bren, I pray that the road from Mount Albert to Bond Head becomes a well beaten track! :)

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