a Journal of activities, thoughts
Oh HIldred -- I know I should see the beauty and peace in this one, but it makes me sad.
It is sad, Sallie, - life is so fragile for the very old that the slightest misstep can mean the end. We just lost a friend of 95 who fell and broke a hip and was gone in just a few days, which made me think of death, hovering, but gently.
for a chilling moment I thought it was Charles. But the older we get the more fragile life is.I was amused at your comment about my flowers, they are nothing like yours and of course because we are out of step with hemispheres, I drool over yours in winter. Also, the cockle train, called that because it sometimes is a steam train, not in summer with the treat of fires, and it goes between our coastal town and the next which is on the mouth of the River Murray and is a great place to get cockles (small bivalves) in the sand in the sea at the right time of the tide. We still go and get them but once there was quite an industry in collecting them and the locals caught the cockle train there and back in a day.Hence the name, it is now a popular tourist train and great fun with beautiful sea views.
Penny, do they carry mussels on the train too?? I remember the song, Cockles and Mussels, alive, alive ho! and was it Sweet Molly Malone that sold them? Or is my memory fading....
The words "lapse," "gently," and "weary" are both comforting and saddening, Hildred. A beautiful poem.
It is wonderful when death comes like that. But the long, slow, painful deaths are so traumatic and tragic.I have been catching up with your past posts and love the variety on this blog. Glad you came over to me so that I could find you:)
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