This is my little sister, Joan. Isn't she cute? Always was, too, right from the first day I saw her. She was a smiley, happy baby as I recall. I was nine when they brought her home from the hospital, and very excited, though disappointed that Mom and Dad —or as she called them, Dum and Mad — didn't listen to me and name her Suzie. Doesn't she look like a Suzie?
She's not a frequent blogger (perhaps that could change if you all go to her site and leave a comment, and for god's sake send something for her photo challenge so she'll stop whining! this week she's asking for your photo of something you can't live without), but when she does post an entry, it's always a good one. In her most recent effort she talks about feeling as if she had a charmed life up until Mom got sick. I can relate to that; when shit happens, suddenly it's brought home, real hard, just how vulnerable we and all our loved ones are. And how if we're smart we'll make the best of the time we have, right now. (October, Joan. I plan to visit you in two months! and maybe this time I'll actually make it.) We all know this, but seem to need to be reminded constantly.
Her husband, who is really still just a baby at age 47, had a heart attack a short while ago, and while he is one of the luckiest men on earth (my sister married him, didn't she? damn right), it's been a shock, an eye-opener, and a hell of a scare for him, for them, and for all of us. Fortunately our Gary has come through with flying colours and now we can all live happily ever after. Amen.
