I never make home fries without thinking of my Aunt Jane. She made the best home fries and she said it was because she cooked them in butter.












She also taught me the poem that goes with Blue Willow Ware. It’s my favorite pattern of dishes and I own it properly now.


The poem goes:

Two swallows flying high
A little ship sailing by
Two men on a bridge maybe three
Next you see the willow tree.
A Chinese castle there it stands

It must have been built by the king of the land.
A Cherry tree with cherries on.
A fence below to end my song.

Bestest Son in the world

I am sitting here and I am very nervous. My son is coming to take me out to dinner and I’m scared. I don’t want to talk too much. I don’t want to let him know how I’ve been feeling. I hope that I can listen and learn about his life. No politics. I’m trying to give up on that. I don’t know how long it’s been since it was just the two of us talking. We always had so much in common. Now, I don’t have anything to tell him that is good. What will he think of me? Hopefully I’ll never know. I’ve never been so unsure of myself. He’s on the way.

It wasn't hard at all. He's still my boy, and I'm still his Mom. I just love him to bits!

Goodbye Evidence

Today I am getting rid of 18 years of diaries that I kept to record my life for the future. Now I realize a few things: no one will read them; if anyone does they could get the wrong impression. Mostly I wrote when I was happy or when I was sad or confused or mad. My son wouldn't read them. My daughter would be unhappy if she did. It was hard to stay sane day after day with teenagers and perfection that I felt pressure of from Jack. I've been walking on eggshells for so many years and to release these books would crush those shells and ruin it all. No one should know my worst thoughts.