This time last year, I was on my way to a soccer tournament in Portland, Oregon with my brave daughter. My husband had died three days before, but my daughter insisted on going.
I remember, sitting on the train on our way to the airport, watching my daughter's pale face in the morning light. I felt like I wanted to disappear, but I didn't have that option.
I suppose I will have these residual memories for a while.
Today, we are on the same train, on our way to another soccer tournament, but this time in San Diego. However, this year we are laughing and talking, and it's all good.
What a difference a year makes.
Love and blessings to all.