One of my many is having to have had loving parents for many years. I say many years because one passed on at 93, the other, at 95. I was long on Medicare when I lost them.
Yesterday, I paid them a visit. Not at the graveyard, as one might expect, but on a bench by a river. It was the bench that my siblings and I purchased at a national park facing a river in memory of those two gifted people who gifted us with their talents, sacrifices and love. As I sat on that bench, I shared snippets of memories with the spirits of each: a drive to a party through a snow storm with Dad; Mother calling out the ingredients of a cake that I was learning to mix while she prepared Sunday dinner; delivering eggs to city folk with Dad; Mother picking me up late at night from a concert in the city. These, and more acts of parental giving are vignettes of love that are a part of my fiber, are some of my many blessings.