At the Farmer's Market

My cousins Janet, Rhonda and Lynn at the neighbour's market table

It was another slow day at the hall in Wadena yesterday, they said, but it brought in some welcome surprises: the three ladies above, and my cousin Karla (from Flin Flon area now) and her daughter and mother. There were familiar faces, and new. Had I not sold a single thing, I'd still have left energized. Obviously I've been a hermit for too long.

Wish I'd thought to get the camera out for a picture of Gracie! That's Karla's girl. She is growing up fast; and what a sweetie. Who has the same name as someone else who is high on my list of sweeties.

It is eight years, tomorrow, that Mom died. That anniversary doesn't seem to bother me, but I might be kidding myself: the body doesn't forget. The sleeper doesn't forget, either, when you tell yourself not to worry about something, to let it go. It frets as it wishes and you can toss and turn all night. Well, whatever. It's been eight years that, before she died, I couldn't imagine without her in them.

I find myself missing her more, though, instead of less, as the time since I last saw her gets longer.