soon be turned to joy.
I guess in life a person just never knows. If you had asked me a month ago what my life would be now, I never would have guessed I would have developed a fondness for the Mary of the Bible and that I would have angered Becca so that she’s not talking to me.
I get the room ready for the Sisterhood meeting after I eat a sandwich out front. I don’t usually spend the whole afternoon here, but I am avoiding my aunt and uncle. I decided I would leave them a note before I left this morning telling them that the director of the play had told me that he was asking them to host a cast party for the play I was in, but that they should feel under no obligation to do so. I assured them that I didn’t expect anything like that and that the director could find another place for the party.
Communicating through notes is not unusual with me and my aunt and uncle. My aunt has a heavy silver tray that she leaves on a table just inside the front door for mail and notes like that. The housekeeper will take the tray and deliver whatever is on it to my aunt. I think my aunt likes to be served with that silver tray. It must make her feel like the queen of something.
Anyway, when I get home after the Sisterhood meeting, there will probably be an envelope in the old mailbox on the side of the house by the entrance my parents and I use. My aunt is always good about responding to notes.
I arrange the table and chairs the way we usually have them for the Sisterhood meetings. Randy and I had moved some things around earlier to make our stage, so I am careful to have everything in its proper place.
I brought the red silk yarn with me so I can begin making a scarf with it. I already have most of my Christmas presents purchased, so I don’t know who I am making the scarf for. I guess I’ll knit it and see who comes to mind.
Lizabett is the first one to get here for the Sisterhood. Her hair is wet when she comes in and she shakes herself.
“Rain,” she says. “And I didn’t have an umbrella with me.”
“Let me go get some paper towels for you.”
I go to the kitchen and get a roll of paper towels. If Lizabett is wet, the others might be, too. I can hear the sound of the rain on the roof when I am in the kitchen of The Pews.
“Don’t let me forget to give all of you your tea,” Randy calls over to me from the grill. “Uncle Lou gave me strict instructions on that before he left. I don’t think he would have gone to Italy if he thought I was forgetting your tea, especially when it’s raining outside like this.”
“Uncle Lou swears his tea is what got us through our treatments,” I say. “And maybe he’s right.”
Not that I think the tea made such a difference, but having Uncle Lou faithfully bring it to us did make us feel better. I wonder as I go back to the room why I liked Uncle Lou’s tea so much and didn’t like the imported fruit Randy had brought in earlier. Is it just because the one is more common? When I get back to the room, Rose and Marilee are also there.
Rose is the only one who brings an umbrella with her tonight. She comes into the room with her hair dry and her umbrella dripping. I wish you could see Rose. She is a medium height and a medium build. You wouldn’t pick her out in a crowd unless you looked at her closely. But she has the kindest face of anyone I know. I can never decide if that’s because her blue eyes are so expressive or because her smile is so genuine. Rose can laugh and cry with abandon. She’s about fifty and she wears her dark hair in short curls around her head. She’s not married and she never tells us if she goes on any dates.
“Sorry I’m late,” Rose says as she sets her umbrella in a corner. “I got caught in traffic.”
Because Rose continues to work as a counselor with teenagers who have cancer, many of her evenings are taken up with family therapy sessions. Rose pulls some yarn and knitting needles out of her big purse. “I’ve looked forward
I guess in life a person just never knows. If you had asked me a month ago what my life would be now, I never would have guessed I would have developed a fondness for the Mary of the Bible and that I would have angered Becca so that she’s not talking to me.
I get the room ready for the Sisterhood meeting after I eat a sandwich out front. I don’t usually spend the whole afternoon here, but I am avoiding my aunt and uncle. I decided I would leave them a note before I left this morning telling them that the director of the play had told me that he was asking them to host a cast party for the play I was in, but that they should feel under no obligation to do so. I assured them that I didn’t expect anything like that and that the director could find another place for the party.
Communicating through notes is not unusual with me and my aunt and uncle. My aunt has a heavy silver tray that she leaves on a table just inside the front door for mail and notes like that. The housekeeper will take the tray and deliver whatever is on it to my aunt. I think my aunt likes to be served with that silver tray. It must make her feel like the queen of something.
Anyway, when I get home after the Sisterhood meeting, there will probably be an envelope in the old mailbox on the side of the house by the entrance my parents and I use. My aunt is always good about responding to notes.
I arrange the table and chairs the way we usually have them for the Sisterhood meetings. Randy and I had moved some things around earlier to make our stage, so I am careful to have everything in its proper place.
I brought the red silk yarn with me so I can begin making a scarf with it. I already have most of my Christmas presents purchased, so I don’t know who I am making the scarf for. I guess I’ll knit it and see who comes to mind.
Lizabett is the first one to get here for the Sisterhood. Her hair is wet when she comes in and she shakes herself.
“Rain,” she says. “And I didn’t have an umbrella with me.”
“Let me go get some paper towels for you.”
I go to the kitchen and get a roll of paper towels. If Lizabett is wet, the others might be, too. I can hear the sound of the rain on the roof when I am in the kitchen of The Pews.
“Don’t let me forget to give all of you your tea,” Randy calls over to me from the grill. “Uncle Lou gave me strict instructions on that before he left. I don’t think he would have gone to Italy if he thought I was forgetting your tea, especially when it’s raining outside like this.”
“Uncle Lou swears his tea is what got us through our treatments,” I say. “And maybe he’s right.”
Not that I think the tea made such a difference, but having Uncle Lou faithfully bring it to us did make us feel better. I wonder as I go back to the room why I liked Uncle Lou’s tea so much and didn’t like the imported fruit Randy had brought in earlier. Is it just because the one is more common? When I get back to the room, Rose and Marilee are also there.
Rose is the only one who brings an umbrella with her tonight. She comes into the room with her hair dry and her umbrella dripping. I wish you could see Rose. She is a medium height and a medium build. You wouldn’t pick her out in a crowd unless you looked at her closely. But she has the kindest face of anyone I know. I can never decide if that’s because her blue eyes are so expressive or because her smile is so genuine. Rose can laugh and cry with abandon. She’s about fifty and she wears her dark hair in short curls around her head. She’s not married and she never tells us if she goes on any dates.
“Sorry I’m late,” Rose says as she sets her umbrella in a corner. “I got caught in traffic.”
Because Rose continues to work as a counselor with teenagers who have cancer, many of her evenings are taken up with family therapy sessions. Rose pulls some yarn and knitting needles out of her big purse. “I’ve looked forward
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