If you’ve been around here any length of time, you know my mom and I make frequent trips to ‘the home’ to visit the old girls. We love them all to bits. There are seven of us, when we’re all there (though, if you were to ask them they’d retort, ‘We’re here, because where not all there’). Of course, the dining room does not accommodate parties of seven. That means we have to steal a place setting or two from a neighboring table, which tends to garner the evil eye. It’s my least favorite part of our visits. Yet Friday evening, the fact that we didn’t need to add another place broke my heart; as I went out around the table, pouring water into glasses, the tears fell.
You see, the first of us is gone.
Last Friday, her daughter held a happy hour in her honor. A perfect send off.
So to Agnes, we’ll miss your quick wit and your giving spirit.
We’ll try to pick up where you left off: to eat our fruits and veggies; to give our all, no matter the odds; to relish our heritage and time spent with friends; to make the best of the hand we’re dealt . . .