On Friday afternoon, twin sister and I drove to our parents’ home, two hours away, just the two of us. Road trips together—big ones, small ones—always bring a certain pleasure for two people with identical DNA. We may go for miles and not talk. Other times, we may go for miles and not hush. Either way, we’re comfortable together.
We’re not young women, but, in good times or bad, happy or sad, our hearts still carry the spark of our youth.
I was all set to blog about our blessed weekend, but twin sister beat me to it and her words are just as good as mine, so no need for me to repeat myself when you can hop on over to her gentle place and read all of the details, including Mother's plum cobbler.
The photos below are ones I captured of my dear old daddy, working hard to keep his property maintained. Even at 88, even after having suffered a major injury from a fall in 2012, he is still one of the strongest men I know.
You have to look closely to see him over against the fence with the weed-eater. This is only about one-fourth of his property and even though we've offered to pay to have it kept up, for now, he still enjoys the work. How blessed he is, as are we.
Every trip home reminds me of how rich I am, rich in all the things that matter.
As I write, Sunday is coming to a close, another day crossed off the calendar. I can hardly believe August is almost over. The weather continues to be hot, but this too shall pass, as it always does, and my yearning for that first cool snap will be answered in the sweet by and by.
Until next time, sweet friends, thanks for keeping me company here. May your week be filled with good things.