Mom lost a dear cousin last week. These beautiful flowers came home with her after the memorial service. So much beauty in nature.
Even in sorrow, there's beauty.
Mom shared a lot of childhood memories at dinner that night. She told us about the boy that lived across the street from her cousin and that she had a crush on him when she was about ten or eleven.
She got to chat with him and his wife at the memorial service. She was so happy to talk with someone who knew her aunt and uncle. And someone who shared the same memories she had.
There's comfort to be found in shared memories.
She told us how she found out that Franklin Delano Roosevelt had died.
She picked up the phone to make a call and heard two neighbors talking about his death. She quickly hung up and turned on the radio to hear more news.
We had to explain to J and K what a "party line" was and how it worked. While I don't remember party lines, I do remember only needing to dial 5 digits when I called my grandmother's house from my aunt's house in the big city.
Now I need to dial ten or eleven digits to make that call. Oy vey.
K turned eighteen.
The Man has been teasing her mercilessly about being "over the hill". She's been calling him "old coot" for the past few years and it makes him crazy.
So he started calling her "old coot" this week, telling her it's all downhill from here. He brought out a cane for her to try. And offered his reading glasses.
She. Is. Not. Amused.