Now that I've been resident in The Little House for over a year it's interesting to look back at my early months here. People would ask "You're going to spend winter there?" with a note of disbelief in their voice. I, too, wondered how it would be to spend winter here. It reminds me of a nervous bride who turned to her husband at the conclusion of the ceremony and said "Piece of cake!" Spending the winter here was a "piece of cake."
One of the losses I suffered by moving here, and the pandemic, was teaching at Noble Academy. At first I taught 5 days a week, then 4 and, finally, 3. That commitment rooted me in a schedule keeping the calendar in my mind. For over a year I have not taught. In The Little House I've tried to phone a business to be surprised that they were not open only to discover it was a Saturday.
An email, from Sam, a fellow denizen in the land of grief, brought me up short when he reported his plans for Mother's Day on Sunday. "Mother's day, I didn't know it was Mother's Day!" was my reaction. This morning I visited the mother of my children as I do several times a week. Now, thanks to my niece, I have a plan for Mother's Day.
Takk for alt,
Al
This is my chick, Doris.
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