Bring down the bag, pack the dresses, the underwear. Fill up the little glass jar with the doses of supplements we'll need while we're gone, put it in a bag with almonds and crackers and prunes and Chex Mix. Road food. The books on the counter, ready to go. The toiletry bag half packed in the bathroom.
Make and eat the supper, clean up, pour the water into the coffee pot, fill up the basket with grounds, set the timer.
Tomorrow finish up the packing, load up the car, drink the coffee, eat something and get on the road.
Here's something interesting- on Mother's Day we were on our way back from Nashville. On Father's Day we will be on our way back from Nashville.
It's been a very strange year. So very, very full and it is just half over. Four weddings and a funeral. And a death without a funeral.
Somehow, though, it doesn't seem like a movie.
I'm going to go pack my great-grandmother's pearls. I am getting some use out of them this year, those pearls.
Night falls and in the distance, the thunder rumbles.