The purple violets are blooming along the path that I walk. Because I know this path so well, I know exactly where to look for them every year and they do not disappoint me.
I walked a long way today, pushing it because I feel like pushing it these days, wanting to be stronger. There is nothing I can do about the wrinkles and age spots and sagging and the falling-off-the-bone of the flesh but I can be strong beneath it all.
Or at least, a little strong.
And then, after my lunch I got in the garden and I planted my peas and I weeded the space where I'm going to plant the onions and all of that took me so long that I was too tired to plant the onions and so I came in and am about to start dinner, which is what I do, of course.
Here is another thing I do every evening now.
I get Mr. Moon's B-12 injection drawn up and waiting for when he gets home. It's going okay. Sometimes I hit my target better than others but the B-12 always gets delivered and so far I haven't hit a bone or anything like that. He says it doesn't hurt. I hope he's telling the truth.
I still hate jabbing that needle into his flesh. It is an action which goes against everything I feel for him- which is to always touch with love and tenderness in mind.
Here are the pictures from yesterday. We ate at one of our favorite places. A buffet that has curries and spring rolls, tofu in many forms, delicious vegetables, everything fresh, and then that freezer full of ice cream and cheesecake and other little delicacies including a sweet daikon radish and carrot salad which is delicious.
We ate outside and Rachel came and Jason too.
This boy wants to eat.
Hot and sour soup. "Is it too spicy, August?"
Pretty Rachel getting her turn at squishy baby holding.
Me with a lap of babies. Maggies' beautiful new hand against my old one, her other hand around her cousin. She just loves "the baby".
Rachel brought presents for all the children. I think August loves his.
And that was yesterday, before everything that happened, happened. We had no idea that as we finished up our lunches and went next door to buy seeds and plants and look at the fountains and the flowers at the nursery, a madman was loading his gun.
Here is something that gives me hope- the children who survived yesterday's shootings are old enough to give sane and credible voice to the need for changes in gun laws. And they know how to use those voices. And they are not suffering the hypocrites and bullshitters gladly or silently. Any need they may have had for that was extinguished yesterday in hails of bullets and cries for help and of agony.
They will not forget. They are going to hold our lawmakers accountable.
As must we.