Mockingbird Hill Cottage

It’s been pouring for the past 24 hours and that will continue to be the case today.

Rainy NYC is not fun. Ah well.

This will be a short one as I have to get going. I’m only spending one night in the city but that involves packing, nonetheless. Poor Don. He has one day off and it’s raining.

I went to bed early after getting frustrated with NBC’s coverage of the exhibition skating. There was a commercial before and after each skate and it was so choppy that I didn’t feel I was getting to see an event. Just clips.

I needed the sleep anyway.

And that, my friends, is all that’s happening. Rain, coffee, grabbing a bus into the city, grabbing some time with my husband.

And meeting my friend’s daughter, of course.

Happy Sunday.

I woke to the sun shining into the bedroom and hallway. It’s amazing what a difference that makes. Though I know we are getting rain this afternoon and this won’t last, I’m lapping it up while I can.

I suspect the plants are lapping it up as well.

I saw two of my mourning doves the other day. I saw a blue jay yesterday morning and again today. He may have been here all along, but I’ve not seen him until now. And I’m hearing birdsong  in the morning.

It’s February 24th. Do they know something I don’t know? I’m sure hoping they do. When I look at the weather forecast for the next 10 days, I see daytime temps in the forties and fifties. Still cold at night, of course, but maybe, just maybe, we’ll have an early spring.

I’m headed into the city for the day tomorrow. I’ll come back Monday morning.

Many, many years ago, one of my dearest friends died suddenly. We had been friends since 1st grade. Our families were also friends. When it came time to go to college, our choices were on opposite sides of the state. And, as happens, our paths after college took us in different directions. She moved to Wisconsin. I eventually moved to Philadelphia and graduate school. She married and had a daughter.

One day, while living in Philadelphia, my mother called me. She had to share the tragic news that my friend had died very suddenly. She had been playing with her daughter, who was less than two years old at the time, and collapsed.

I’ve been haunted by that loss ever since. Too young. So much yet to give and share and be. Never able to see her daughter grow up.

Eventually, her husband remarried. I kept in contact with her older brother (who was in my dad’s Boy Scout troop.) He and my friend were especially close siblings and his heart was broken when she died. He would fill me in on my friend’s daughter. I also wrote to her mother and we kept up a correspondence for several years.

Recently, I got a friend request on Facebook from my friend’s now adult daughter. I immediately accepted. She wrote to me, asking me to share any memories I had of her mother, which I was more than happy to do.

She’s going to be in NYC this weekend and she wants to meet me to talk about her mom.

Oh, dear friend, I’m going to meet your daughter. My heart is full.

So that’s why I’m headed into the city.

Happy Saturday.