Saturday morning, I got up very early, navigated the speed traps on the freeways around my son's town and flew up to Utah to Aunt Jean's funeral. This lovely tree is at the Farmington cemetary, where she was buried.
My mother is always very thoughtful and gets flowers to send from our family. This is a closeup of the beautiful arrangement.
Sunday morning, I was back on the plane, back through Phoenix's airport where they have a wonderful stained glass ceiling over a suspended airplane in the center of the terminal.
And I headed back to Matthew's to this treasure: Brooke. Here she is laying on the quilt I made for her, steadied by her father's hand.
Monday morning I was on the road again, up to Flagstaff to Barbara's house, where a happy baby welcomed me.
Barbara is beautiful, although to me she looks tired, and one of her helpers was at her home when I arrived. The helper agreed to babysit the 2-year-old while I drove my daughter to get gas in her car and some food in the fridge. I worried the whole time that I would tire her out further, and rounded the corner to see her leaning on her shopping cart (I was getting some milk). I couldn't get her home fast enough.
How to keep life going when you've been hit with a chronic, debilitating illness seems to be her challenge, and it's like watching Philippe Petit cross the cables strung between the Twin Towers, one step at a time. One step at a time. How come something so trite is actually calming? Do those old cliches get repeated because they all contain a nugget of truth? My latest for myself is "Go Zen," meaning take it in stride, as stress-free as possible.