We just returned from another trip to Charleston--this time, with Mr. Polly!
On this trip I noticed a marked change in my father. He and I are the early risers in the house, but this time around, instead of making coffee at 5:45 am and talking for two hours straight each morning as we sit in the two living room wingback chairs, I made coffee at 5:45 am and sat and knitted while he dozed. The brain radiation has done a number on him, and the fatigue is deep. He has to use a walker to get around the house. My big, strong, robust Dad...on a walker. It's surreal. But he's still smiling. He still enjoyed hearing Finn play piano, still enjoyed watching Annie flit around the place, still enjoyed watching football with his beloved son-in-law (although my Dad went to bed during halftime of the University of South Carolina game...another unprecedented event).
On our way out of town last week my aunt and uncle waved us down as we drove past them on the lane. They were picking apples and gave me a lapful for our ride. I love it when the apples are ripe! It signals the end of summer, the start of my birthday month, the coming of beautiful autumn--arguably the best time in these mountains of ours.
And the apples remind me that this, too, is a season of life. Thanks be to God for His unending mercies.
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