Days in this Sacred Life

On Sunday I visit friends I have not seen for years.

On Monday I attend the funeral of a dear friend's mother.
On Tuesday a friend cancels our tea date because she had her license taken away because of stroke like symptoms.
On Wednesday I share an afternoon with my cousin,  my childhood neighbour and playmate and
 I hear that another friend went to emerg because of dizzy spells,  she needs more tests before they will know the cause.

I spend time with grandchildren.
One of them has a runny nose and cold and another ended up in bed early because of a fever.

I drive home in the blowing snow,  I need to keep the lights on low in order to see, as I pray that the temperature does not change enough to cause the melting snow to turn to freezing rain.
Freezing rain is the worst according to me.

As I drive I listen to As it Happens,
 I listen to Holly Near and Chris Williamson sing.
 I drive in silence.

Today is Thursday.

I sit by the fire at a desk and I write
and

I give thanks for friends whose lives, whose challenges cause me sorrow,
and grief.

I give thanks for a life in which children tell me that they like me so so so so much,
and whose faces broaden with smiles when they see me in person
or on the screen,
and who squeal with delight,
interrupting my conversation with mama.

Mama who has a birthday.  My baby with a big boy of her own now.
 My baby who fills me with pride.
Still.

The wind is blowing outside.  It is damp and cool.
I sit at my desk with the fire burning beside me,
warming my toes.

gkn Nov. 2017