On an Afternoon Walk ~ Apologetic

dried, crisp and bowed

while leaves remain 

the trees green and full 

as the season passes.

“We need never be ashamed of our tears.”

~ Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

Chapter Two, Episode 151 - Hidden Treasure - Situationally Theirs

“Look, Em.” Dez had been pawing through her toolkit. What she really wanted was a certain screwdriver but she found an old roll of green tape. She almost pushed it aside, but smiled and held it out to her sister. Abandoning their project of repairing Dez’s cupboard doors, Em took it from her. She laughed and pulled the last piece of tape from it. “Where do I put this Dez? I guess nowhere….those days are long gone.” When the sisters had been isolated together at the beginning of the pandemic, they watched videos about pandemic protocols. Dez had set safe zones keeping them as separate as possible. Finding rolls of green masking tape in Martha’s office had helped to solve the problem. Em sat crosslegged on the floor in front of the cupboard she was working on. “I stayed in Digby’s office and you stayed in Martha’s office. For two weeks we decided we had to keep our distance from each other. That video about what to do with groceries was a bit of overkill, but none of us knew anything about the virus.” Dez found the screwdriver with the Phillips head and started work on the upper cupboards. “These haven’t been worked on for years! Martha must not have noticed that they were loose.” She stopped midway and, almost lost in thought, she said “Do you remember us sitting on the floor colouring? Like we were a couple of kids. That was fun.” Emelina, on her knees, was back at work on her part of the project. “You know, Dez, we should have painted these doors first. They look like they could use some freshening up.” She sat back on her folded legs. “We really did get to know each other again didn’t we? Do you think we ever would have found each other again if we hadn’t be thrown into that situation. I know that so many - too many - lost their lives, lost loved ones - that I almost feel guilty for our good fortune.”

“Funny about life, isn’t it? I don’t know that we would have even looked for each other. My life was tough, going one job to the next, always scraping to pay the bills. If I had thought about it, I just assumed that you didn’t really care where I was. Maybe we just hoped we’d run into each other some day. But I don’t think so. We didn’t part of the best of terms.” Dez got down from her step ladder and was going to put water on for coffee. “Want tea or coffee, Em? And we need some lunch. We’ve been at this all morning.” After rummaging in her refrigerator, she closed the door. “Not much in there Em. “Would Cook be mad if we descended on her for lunch?” Em stood, took her work gloves off and put her jacket on. “When has Cook ever been angry about feeding anyone? Come on. I think today was a soup making day, and if we’re lucky she’s been making sandwiches for Samuel.” Tools away, Dez put her jacket on, dug in her pocket for her keys and went to the door. 

~~~~~

Martha’s half of the duplex had become Dez’s home over the last couple of years. Em had hired her to take care of the orchard so that she would have employment. When Martha and Digby married, Martha’s half of the duplex was empty. Brigitte had lived in it for a while before she went off to university. Brigitte, Emelina’s care giver for many years, was separated in the pandemic, forcing out of her doldrums. After lockdowns had ended, there was an attempt for a time to give Brigitte a different job description, but university called the young woman away. Not long after, Dez decided that driving back and forth from Hartley wasn’t to her liking. She moved out to the Estate where her life settled into the Estate living. 

Neither of the sisters in a hurry, they wandered over to the orchard. “Our trees look so much better since you’ve been taking care of them. I really wondering if we needed them. Didn’t really know what to do about it.” Dez reached up and plucked a stray apple from the nearest tree. “The pickers missed this one, or it wasn’t ripe when they were through.” Crunching down on the striped apple, juice squirting into her hand, she had to stop talking. But not long. “It’s been a gift that I would never had expected, Em. I did tree planting years ago, but having a whole orchard to myself! I would never thought it possible. And an apiary - I knew nothing about bees except that they made honey. That was an interesting project - and still is. Samuel and Matt have taught me so much in such a short time.” Em had found another apple, almost too high up to reach, but standing on her tiptoes, she managed to get it. “Digby is the one that has taught me about orchard management from the financial end.” She stopped and looked up at the manor house and back at the garden where she could see Samuel harvesting the vegetables they’d soon see in the house. “We’re pretty fortunate aren’t we, Dez? Never knowing where each other was, not really thinking about it, here we are. Working together. Sharing some of the same space.” Em voice caught in her throat. With her free hand, she put her fingers under her eyelids to catch escaping tears. Dez put her arm around her sister. “You are so right, Em. The pandemic was an awful, terrible time for so many. Here we are, grateful, happy and together.” The afternoon sun shone across the Beaufort Estate. “Let’s get that lunch, Em.”

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments 

when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.”

~ Thornton Wilder

Distracted

Distracted

not by bright shiny things

or too much noise

merely restless and

exhausted

disinterested but

curious

wanting to keep moving

but sitting is preferable

reasons all normal, yet

pushed together make me

distracted

and ready to sleep.

“Don’t be impacted by things that are only fleeting temporary distractions.”

~ Steven Redhead, Life is a Dance

A Late Summer Garden

I avoided purchasing plants this spring. Wanted to evaluate the sun and wind on my patio. My plans? Planting should be in spring time………but after a twist of my arm - a very gentle twist - I accompanied my good friend Donna to the Plant Ranch. I wasn't going to buy anything. Just looking. But then I decided on a late summer garden: A Halpen Blue Hosta. Hens and Chicks just slipped in my hand. They both seemed to fit the bill. Both are hardy to this Hardiness Zone (3b), but I was told by the nursery owner that they may not make it through winter. So, they’ll have be houseplants part of the year! Or tucked in very carefully. (The skinny floppy plants are ginger shoots that have been pushed aside to accommodate the newcomer.)

“A late summer garden has a tranquility found no other time of year.”

~ William F. Longgood

Plant Ranch

5909 13th Avenue

Regina, Sask

Website: plantranchregina.ca

Scent of Nostalgia

Scent of Nostalgia

Just out of the dryer, the sheets were warm and smelled of soap and mild perfume. Madelaine recalled her childhood when they smelled of prairie winds and sunshine. Burrowing her face into her pillow at night softened her dreams. In winter, the frozen sheets smelled of snowflakes and sparkle. After drying inside on a makeshift clothesline they smelled fresh, only the memory of snowflakes remaining. Putting her head on her pillow, her dreams were fresh and clean. 

Madelaine finished folding and putting away clean sheets with their synthetic fresh scent. Dryers were certainly more efficient, especially in winter, but all the scents on the market couldn’t replace the aroma of outdoors.

“These fragments I have shored against my ruins.”

~ T.S.Eliot, The Waste Land and Other Poems

It's Real Cheese-y!

A trial run at a Jamie Oliver recipe ~ and it felt like I’d run a mile - ending with crossing the finish line #1! There was lots of chopping - fennel, leeks, garlic. Having never worked with either fresh fennel or leeks, I had to run back and forth from kitchen to you-tube, from kitchen to table to find all the details that a recipe doesn’t necessarily provide. Like how to clean leeks, and how to cut up fennel (Martha Stewart was my teacher on that last one), when to put in the various cheeses and how much - grated or pinched off in pieces - better known as flavour bombs. My son, Jason backed me up when I needed the pasta drained or when I needed a missing ingredient. The final taste testing was our supper - it was superbly delicious. The next test will be to see how it tastes in the morning - cold from the refrigerator; and secondly, how will it freeze with all the dairy in it. 

From:  Jamie Cooks Italy

            Lasagna ~ Leeks and Fennel

    Cheeses:  Parmeson, 

            Teleggio, (substituted with Havarti)

                            Gorgonzola, (substituted with Blue Cheese)

                            Ball of Mozzerella 

“Good food is a global thing and I find that there is always 

something new and amazing to learn ~ I love it!

~ Jamie Oliver

A Cat Tale - Especially Hungry!

What was special about today? It was the same as yesterday, and the day before. Except that when I tried to wake her up this morning, she only spoke sharply to me. Rather rude. Picking up the black thing that scares me when it makes noise, she looked at it, groaned and ducked back under the covers. Really, she didn’t even have to be fully awake ~ just get up and take care of me. An early breakfast would have been preferable. All I got was curtains drawn at the window. Oh well, although it took some time, she finally fed me ~  but of course not until she had her own food ready!

“When Rome burned, the emperor’s cats still expected to be fed on time,”

~ Seanan McGuire

The Quiet of Home

Sitting in the quiet of home

mind stilled 

the need for busy

vanished

restlessness subsided

like an afternoon breeze

no urge to fill the void

just sitting comfortably

in the quiet of home.

“Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content;

The quiet mind is richer than a crown;…”

~ Original text Robert Greene, 

Greenes Farewell to Folly

(W.White, 1617)

Chapter Two, Episode 150 - Bruised - Situationally Theirs

Bruised

Emelina Beaufort had not been alone that night. She had been so unaware of anything around her she could only feel the emptiness. Sarah, the Estate’s little ghost girl, was and still is, watching over her. For everyone else at the Estate, the pandemic had not seemed to have occurred.

~~~~~

It seemed like a bad dream. Everyone but Miss Em had gone away and now everyone was back. Despite the nostalgia about ‘the good old days’, to have those days back made Elizabeth shudder. Never much of a people person, she had almost enjoyed the lockdown. She was rested like she hadn’t been in years. It was only when she stopped thinking about the next menu, whether the pantry needed stocking or the freezer cleaned out was she able to see her own home. She cleaned her little place until she couldn’t clean it any more. With no coming in and going out, no visitors - it was usually only Samuel - there was seldom any dirt tracked in. Sometimes, after she’d been for a walk she felt like a rebellious teenager, making sure to track dirt in, throw down her coat on the chair rather than on the coat rack. 

“Elizabeth, dear, what are you muttering about?” Martha had been watching her friend tidying up the kitchen at day’s end; saw her shaking her head; tried to hear what she was fussing about and finally decided to just ask. “Oh, nothing much.” She finished up and took her purse out of the cupboard above the stove. “Didn’t look like much, dear. And I thought I heard ‘lockdown’ - we’ve all done with that nonsense.”

“Don’t you ever feel……I don’t know…..kind of strange sometimes?” Putting her jacket on, she stopped halfway, only one arm in a sleeve. “It’s ok when you or James or maybe one other person is here, but more than that, I just feel almost nervous. I can’t pay attention to what I’m doing.” She shrugged her jacket on, buttoned it up and was about to leave. “Oh, Elizabeth, I had no idea you felt like that. I’m so sorry! I’m not sure I’ve had a problem. James is always with me at home.” Martha, also readying herself to go home, was quiet. “I guess it’s only if a new person comes into the mix….like when Phillip started working with James. It took me longer to get used to him. Oh, maybe we’re just getting old, Elizabeth.” Martha laughed and patted her greying hair. 

“It is a bother, though. It’s been easy to slide back into our routines, and maybe be a little more relaxed about getting things done. Just surprised me when I started to notice being a bit edgy. Samuel’s even been more distant ~ we talked about that. He just thought I was worrying too much.” The two women walked to the door together. “James is in town right now. Even so, I’d best get home and get supper started. Will you be all right, dear?” Outside, Elizabeth looked up at the evening sky. It had rained earlier in the day, a light but steady rain, leaving the yard wet, smelling fresh and clean. She breathed deeply of the cool air. “Oh course, I will Martha. I’m getting used to people again. The better part of three years away from the activity of people coming and going, making my home cosy and safe almost spoiled me. There were times when I could have stayed there forever……” she laughed…… “until I got bored or lonely and called one of you. If I couldn’t get Samuel, I’d call you. I’ll be fine.” She hugged her friend. “Now you get on home to that handsome husband of yours. I’ve been so happy for the two of you - that’s one time during the pandemic that we all gathered together. The two of you getting married and having that lovely party outside was tonic for all of us.” 

As the sun set behind the trees, the clear sky looked bruised from the receding brilliance. The two women went their separate ways, Martha to her cottage and husband; Elizabeth to her little nest that she had come to know and love. To the first star that twinkled in the sky she said, “Life is pretty good.” She raised a hand to Samuel coming across the yard to meet her. “Supper at my house, Samuel?” In silent agreement, he fell into step beside her. One night bird called and then the air was still.

“Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.”

~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley,  Frankenstein

On an Afternoon Walk - An Attack!

So lovely. This little white butterfly sitting on a leaf in the late afternoon sun. Suddenly, a wicked wasp headed straight for it. The butterfly took off before the attack was in full waspishness. 

“A power of Butterfly must be ~ 

The Aptitude to fly……”

~ Emily Dickinson

Again

Again

“I’m too old to start again.” Standing at the mirror, a full length one at that, Adele agreed with her reflection.“So, we won’t. We’ll start something much bigger. Just you and I.” Adele Marie Wilmington had been a successful business woman. Retirement came to her with a surprise. She, and her staff, thought she would be carried out the door before she would accept retirement. The clothing design company had been her baby. From her mother’s kitchen table designing ball gowns for paper dolls to school fashion shows and on to a Master’s Degree in Fashion Design, she never stopped looking at clothes and fabrics. Often quoted with her directive to staff: “You can’t have one without the other. Fabric makes the garment and the garment makes the fabric.” There was one day when she knew she was done with the whole business. She had a special love for natural fabrics: real cotton, real wool, real silk. Business models had made it necessary that she bowed to the synthetic world of fabric. So much so that even business felt false and synthetic. When she heard herself being called a legend, and ‘the grand dame of fashion’, at first she was proud but slowly she heard it in a different light. For some she’d been put on a pedestal, for others……well, she saw the smirks, overheard one or two snide comments about ‘too old’. Most of her contemporaries had either retired to Florida or some island in the Caribbean. Unfortunately she’d had to attend too many funerals. The C.E.O.’s she dealt with were young enough to be her children and even one her granddaughter. The day she retired, she came out of her office above the cutting room floor and called for silence. A very large room, it took the supervisors time to rush around and have all scissors and measuring tapes put down. The models, in various states of undress or draped in Adele’s cherished fabrics, impatiently did as they were told. She spoke into a microphone “I have an announcement to make, but first I want to thank everyone for your hard work. I know some of you have been here since I began this company. Your leadership bringing everyone else on board has been invaluable. For everyone else who has joined us, you have made this company what it has become. My dream.” A catch in her throat, she hesitated, dabbed her eyes with her ever present delicate cotton handkerchief. Continuing she said “Today, I am retiring effective 5pm. I will no longer be in the office but will work from home until I decide who should take over from me. My secretary, Annie Fitzgerald, will be in charge along with the floor supervisors.” A gasp rose from the floor in unison. Then the murmurs about who and what and why today began. Adele clapped her hands. “Everyone, please, return to your work. My office door will be open for anyone that has questions or concerns.” Her secretary had been informed that morning of an ‘announcement’ and had a light lunch and coffee ready for her employer. Adele’s office, at the level of a second floor suite, had a small balcony where she retired to after the tension of her bold action. There, looking out over a city park, she breathed deeply of the air that felt fresher, even with any traffic fumes. Her shoulders felt lighter. She hugged herself, preventing herself from cheering to the people below, like Scrooge on Christmas morning.

Now here she was at home, her shocking white hair pulled back in her signature bun, wearing a long, flowing white silk caftan, gold slippers showing her pedicured toes. “What big thing are we going to do?” She and her reflection laughed out loud. “We’re going shopping for crayons and paper dolls. If I have to go to Toronto, Vancouver, Paris or New York City to find just the right ones, that’s what we’ll do. I have to find myself all over again because none of us are ever too old for that.”

“It’s never too late to go out and get that feeling back.”

~ Loretta Switt

Moving

Moving

The house wasn’t the same to her anymore. Nothing really had changed. At least not that much. Clarisse still had the same old comfortable furniture. His hoodie still hung on the hook by the front door. She had told him not to forget it, but was glad that he did. She shook her head, trying to rid herself of the strange feeling. Walking into her kitchen she ran her hands over counters free of toast crumbs and spilled milk. The dining room was hers now. Just a low vase of pink and mauve sweet peas graced the polished wood. Starting to smile, she rubbed her hands together. “I’m going upstairs……to the bathroom.” It was clean! No wet towels on the floor, smushed tube of toothpaste….in the garbage. She straightened the colour coded towels on the wicker rack next to the sink. The mirror, free of streaks and splashes, showed each of her well deserved wrinkles in clarity. Stepping out in the hall, she peered into his room. The bed was made! No sign of teenage years. The closet was empty……almost. A deflated football, old sneakers (Phew!!). Picking them up between two fingers, holding them far away she put them in an empty trash basket. “That comes downstairs with me.” 

She opened her bedroom door….wide. Her room was always neat as pin, but as long as she lived with family, or had guests, she kept it closed. “Hmmmm. Maybe, I’ll get a pet….may have to keep the door closed then; but we’ll seec” She stood still and inhaled the silence of her house. The house wasn’t the same to her anymore and she would miss the disarray. She would miss her son, his clumping down the stairs, slamming the door on the way out, leaving the refrigerator door open, playing the horrendous noise that he called music, always on his phone or tablet. “Sorry Mom!” echoed. She took his hoodie off the hook, held it to her nose and breathed deeply. Then coughed and took it to the washing machine. “He’ll be back. He’s only 500 miles away at university.”

“If you want to become full, let yourself be empty.”

~ Lao Tzu

**Random first line from writingexercises.co.uk

Book Review: State of Terror by Hillary Rodham Clinton and Louise Penny

When I start a book, I don’t usually flip to read the Acknowledgments at the back. This time, I was curious about the authors. How does a political figure and a mystery writer, both well known in their fields, collaborate? Both with completely different styles of writing and at a distance. The answer: successfully. Clintons knowledge of the machinations of global politics and Penny’s skill with her mystery series created a fascinating ride through political intrigue. Truly a State of Terror. 

President Douglas Williams has chosen Ellen Adams for the position of Secretary of State. Previously founding and running a powerful media empire for decades, she and the President definitely do not see eye to eye. An odd appointment but it kept Ellen where the President thought he could control her. She had published unfavourably about him in the past. As the story progresses, her Foreign Service Officer, Anahita Dahir, received a strange text that was initially ignored as spam by one of her superiors, but she did keep a copy. Realizing its importance she pushes past security agents to get the message to her boss. Bus bombings occur in France, Germany and the U.K. that are related to this cryptic message. The terror is that there are more to come, but where and who is responsible! From Washington, D.C. to Oman to Pakistan to Moscow, Ellen Adams, Secretary of State meets with all of the heads of state. She confronts these powerful men with what little she knows and asks questions she wants answered. Seldom alone, she keeps security people close in all of these incredibly dangerous situations. She also keeps her close friend and counsellor, Betsy Jameson with her at all times, or on the other end of her video phone. There are strong female characters are throughout this story, not always on the side of the good guys.

It could be easy to translate this work of fiction into the recent political atmosphere in the U.S. That being said, this story goes much deeper than any political news reports of the day. In her travels, Ellen Adams not only confronts powerful men, but has to respect cultural and political protocols in each country, some related to women and their garb.

Throughout this story of intrigue, there are references to mythological stories like Gilgamesh, a Persian children’s story about the cat and the rat, and the poet John Donne (1572 - 1631). Having read several of Louise Penny’s Inspector Gamache series, I could see her hand in the crafting of this book. Spoiler alert: Inspector Gamache and the village of Three Pines play roles in the latter part of this tale of political intrigue and murder.

“This is a work of  fiction but the story it tells is all too timely. 

It’s up to us to make sure its plot stays fictional.”

~ Hillary Rodham Clinton, State of Terror

Title: State of Terror

Author: Hillary Rodham Clinton and Louise Penny

Copyright: 2021 by Hillary Rodham Clinton and Three Pines Creations

Publisher: Simon & Schuster and St. Martin’s Press

Type: Fiction

Format: Novel

ISBN - 978-1-9821-7367-8

Canada on Fire

Fires

  Devastation

     Tragedies 

In the moment, it does not matter the cause of the horrendous fires burning through our forests, whether climate change or individual human fault. It only matters that homes and all their contents are destroyed or damaged beyond repair. In all of the devastation there is the bravery and determination of the firefighters in the midst of the fires; the resiliency of those evacuated from their homes and the kindness of friends, families and strangers who took the lost into their homes. Our health care system ~ physicians, nurses, all the workers ~ bending once more to these tragedies outside anyone’s immediate control. The special part of all of this is the hearts of humanity on the front lines beating back this violent threat and those offering welcome to those that have been devastated.

“When she awoke, the world was on fire.”

~ Scott Westerfeld, Uglies

Bursting!

 

Summer’s not over

Fall’s not begun

Foliage is fading

Except this plant…….

It’s just bursting!

“Half the interest of a garden is the constant exercise of the imagination.”

~ Mrs. C.W. Earle, Pot-pourri from a Surrey Garden, 1897

Chapter Two, Episode 149 - Post-Pandemic Musings - Situationally Theirs

Post-Pandemic Musings

“Do you remember the night you picked me up in Hartley” Dez had been staring out the dining room window. She turned away from her dreaming and started stuffing her paper work in her new brief case. “What night? You mean that time last week?” Dez shook her head, snapping the case shut and setting it on the floor. “No. Two years - no, three years ago. Anyway it was March of 2020.” Her sister put her book down, rested her head back on her favourite reading chair. “Oh, that night! That was a horrible night. Even so memories are pretty vague, except that the police called and I didn’t have anyone to call. I was so frightened.” 

“Why did you come? I mean, we hadn’t parted on the best of terms and it had been ten years. You could have stayed home in bed. Why did you come if no one was there to help you?” She sat across from Emelina on the sofa. Emelina sat up, made sure she had kept her place in the novel she was reading, and said. “I don’t know. I just knew that my sister was in trouble.” They had never talked about it. As a matter of fact, for the two weeks that were in isolation, they didn’t talk much in first few days, and when they did it was as little as possible. Dez looked down at her hands; her sister stared up at the ceiling. Without moving, Emelina said, “Good thing I knew how to drive and where the keys might be. That took me some time…….to find the keys that is. There just wasn’t anyone here.” Her sister stood and went to the book shelves, looked through the titles for a book she wasn’t even looking for. Pulling a random book from the shelves, she flipped through the pages. “The house was so empty! Before I had even put the phone down, I could feel the emptiness. Not a sound, nothing cooking, Brigitte wasn’t with me where she always had been, just empty. That frightened me.” Dez put the useless book back and turned to her sister. “You? Frightened? I suppose I really didn’t know you and what your life had been like. I just thought you were rich and happy, didn’t know that Michael had died and you had kind of lost it.” Em sat up. “That’s unkind, Dez. I suppose it’s true, though. If it hadn’t been for my staff, my people, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Worry spread across her sister’s face. “What do you mean? You wouldn’t……..” She let the sentence hang empty in the air. “I don’t like to think I would, but I was lost without Michael. He did everything for me, until I got mad and demanded that I get my own way. He was my life. Do you want to walk for a bit?” Dez laughed. “That was a quick change, sis. Sure, it’s a nice evening. Matt’s not expecting me for a couple of hours.”

~~~~~

The evening was still hot and muggy. A cool breeze was attempting to come in through the trees at the back of the walking track. “Maybe a walk wasn’t the best idea, but it is good to be outside.” Only the crunch of gravel under their feet and the ever present gulls accompanied them. Despite the ocean humidity on the island, it had been dry and hot for too long. Forest fires on the mainland and some up island all but ruined the island’s idyllic image. “When the officer explained the pandemic situation to me and the lock down the city had proclaimed I had no idea where I was going to go. What I was going to do. I’d lost my apartment and my job. It’s just lucky I still had your phone number in my cell phone. I wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of me begging for your help, but the officer called you anyway. I was still mad at you for something. Can’t remember what it was now.” They had reached a bench at the far end of the track. “Let’s sit for a minute, Dez. Did you bring your water?” She reached in her pocket and pulled out her small pastel pink water bottle. “No, but I’m ok. I had lots to drink earlier.” The sun was setting behind the trees, golden light filtering through. “Whatever your reasons, I’m glad you came to rescue me.” Emelina smiled at her sister. “So am I. I’m glad we’ve worked through all our baggage. It could have been a lonely couple of years. I don’t know what I would have done without you while my staff was isolating away. I still feel odd calling them ‘my staff’. It sounds rather stuffy.”

“Don’t worry about it, Em. They know you care about them and not just as their boss. Martha and Cook have both told me they worried about you being on your own. They didn’t know anything about me until we contacted them.”

~~~~~

The COVID 19 pandemic had turned everyone’s life upside down. Some people survived it and others did not. Sarah, the little ghost girl, had watched as everyone panicked and left the house. Seeing her mistress all alone, she had wanted to help but didn’t know how. She sat in the chair by her bed watching her. When the thing called a phone rang, she didn’t fade away. When Emelina spoke into it and said she would ‘be right there’, Sarah knew what she had to do. She put things out for her, guided her to the things called ‘keys’ and watched as she drove away. It wasn’t long before she was back bringing a strange angry looking woman with her. Sarah still watched to make sure the mistress of the house was all right. Now, here they both were. Everyone else had returned and gone about life as though nothing had changed. Even though from the outside everyone appeared normal again, Sarah could see hesitation when there were too many people around. Very sensitive, she knew when the world was too much for any of them. People went away again. It was getting better, but until it was, Sarah would keep close watch on them, especially her mistress.

“Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; 

it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.”

~ Sydney J. Harris