A Visit

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.

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