Categories: uncategorized
Date: 13 December 2012 10:38:02
I think I ought to write something sensible , meaningful or at least interesting, as this year speeds towards its close. However that's difficult, but since every day's a bonus, I shall attempt something today.
Yesterday was the twelfth of the twelfth, two thousand and twelve and my lovely mother in law would have been 93. She died in October this year, and it seemed to be a day for reminiscing. She was kind and generous and a real Christian in the true sense of the word. She never had a bad word to say about anyone. It is truly dreadful to see what dementia does.
It brought to the forefront of my mind that as we are now orphans it will be our turn next! What a scary thought, so much to do!
I read somewhere 'Don't look to the past - you are not going there' but in the past is my own mother as well, with her tasty Liverpudlian 'Sea Pie' the like of which I have never been able to recreate. There is my father and the dogs and tortoises and the wonderful holidays we had as children. Of course it was always sunny...
But its right -we might occasionally glance at the past - but to look to it all the time is a poor substitute for living life to the full in the present.
It is so easy to enjoy life here in our peaceful corner of rural France - but maybe the poem doesn't do it justice
‘In the joy of little things…’
It is ambrosia, food of the gods…
an early morning cup of tea
and the sun, already warm
brightens the photos, haphazardly
hung on walls of dusty white.
Shutters and windows flung open wide
allow the morning sounds, and as
swallows chirp, the farmer’s tractor
leaves the barn…
another day begins
downstairs are breakfast sounds
cups and plates, a tap running
a dog scratches, stretches
and waits patiently for
the opening door