matching tracksuits

There is a tsunami approaching: we got the first hints today. Hidden here and there among the pale blue berries are a few dark, ripe ones. There were not many this morning, but there were enough to fill a small cup. What awaits us, though, is overwhelming -- in the most positive way, to be sure, but overwhelming nonetheless.

We picked them after we spent a bit of time blasting off the last bit of paint on the ramp that leads to our side entrance.

It was the ramp we built to help us get Nana and Papa into their new quarters a little over four years ago. We don't have much need for it now -- we could survive with a simple path and a couple of steps, but of course, we would never go through the time and expense of taking out the ramp and putting in a walkway in. As with the walk-in shower, it's a reminder of a time now gone, of family now gone, of times never to return.

And so, as if almost in an unconscious effort to make the most of the times we have together, we did something we haven't done as a family in a while: play a board game. L, of course, won -- she almost always wins. The Boy came in last, as he frequently and sadly does. K and I, not worrying about who's winning or losing as the game progresses, end up in the middle.

A perfect evening in the middle of the week. We need more of them.