There's Something About A Sunday, Makes A Body Feel Alone
"Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act,--act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead!" from A Psalm of Life by Henry Wordsworth Longfellow Sunday is lovely. Its close to 10 p.m. Jenny is soaking her aching hip and back in the tub. I just returned from Safeway with Abby, who rested her forehead on my shoulder while we were there. A banner moment, perhaps not, but such a rare occurrence it has to be acknowledged. Jenny woke this morning with horrible pain. Horrible. The pain woke her. She medicated and then came to see me. I worked in the back yard all day. Mowed, scooped, edged, pruned, turned over flower beds, added fertilizer. Planted wildflowers, sunflowers, corn, pumpkin and a sole perennial. It was glorious. I'm especially happy that the wind chimes hanging from the willow are now making music again. The yard is a place that Jenny can spend with...