The Golden Time

The best thing about having an old, slow computer?  The treasure trove of photos saved over the years!

These gems are from a long ago camping trip with my Boy.

We were at Willingdon Beach (best camp site anywhere!) and we’d scored a coveted spot on the beach.  (This was shortly before I learned cougars are strong swimmers and have been seen paddling in the ocean next to our flimsy tent.)

N, who lived just up the hill, stopped by to help us light a fire.

That evening my Boy read, and N and I huddled near the spitting fire talking about nothing and everything.

Soon after N went home, the rains started.

It rained so hard, a kind fellow camper covered our cheap Walmart tent with a tarp.

Instead of lazing around on the beach reading, my Boy and I watched a movie (inside a nice dry theatre) and went swimming (pool water is warmer than rain!)

We ended up leaving a day early due to inclement weather.  Once home, I had to spread the camping gear in the backyard to dry so it wouldn’t go mouldy when I put it away.

If you’d asked me how the trip went, I would’ve told you it was a disaster.  I would’ve complained about everything from damp sleeping bags to frizzy hair and a shivering Chihuahua.

Now, eight years later, those memories of a visit with my late friend N and a holiday with my adolescent Boy, who was still willing to camp with his mom are golden.

What do you do when it seems like all your good times are in the past?

 

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International Women’s Day

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Today would’ve been my mom’s 88th birthday.  She was only 59 when she died, so it’s hard to picture her as an old woman.

I think it’s fitting her birthday is International Women’s Day.

As well as a devoted mother, she was a strong and vibrant woman who overcame many challenges with courage and grace.

I’ve been told I look like her.  I consider that a complement.

More importantly, I strive to be like her.  Her example of womanhood still inspires me.

This International Women’s Day, I recall my wonderful mom, but I also hope for a future where every woman lives in peace and safety and is able to reach her potential.

 

 

They’re Back!

020Fruitcakes have arrived!

(And not a moment too soon–after all it’s only nine weeks to Christmas.)

I have to admire the optimism of grocers who continue to stock this unpopular item, year after year.  Other than my Welsh mother, who died almost thirty years ago, I can’t think of anyone who eats these leaden blocks of dried fruit, flour and fat.

I’m partial to the thick marzipan layer on top, but that’s as far into fruitcake territory as I’m prepared to venture.

My mom, who was a truly loving and generous parent, used to cut off the marzipan and give it to me EVERYTIME she “enjoyed” a slice of fruitcake.  It’s not that she didn’t like marzipan herself.  (Who doesn’t???)  She shared the best part of her fruitcake with me because she loved me.

Seeing that fruitcake display brought back such fond recollections of being cherished that I almost bought one so I could take the feeling home with me.

Maybe those grocers are smarter than I thought.  They’re not selling fruitcake.  They’re selling memories.