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Thankyou.
Y'know, it's funny, when I got home, this was the first place I headed to. *smiles*
I don't know, and don't care, whether this is the 'best' forum on teh interwebz, it's (you've) helped me rationalize and cope with troubled and troubling times. Like when Dad was still living in his cluttered wreck of a house, with no water supply, newly diagnosed with COPD and not coping. The three in the morning worries, the two in the morning phone calls and mad rushes to the hospital. |Talking through things here helped. That seems a mad time ago now.
Random fond memory of Dad: I'm 9 years old or thereabouts and we're walking through the park in the dead of night looking for bats and owls. We walk along the prom with its row of stately statues and Dad tells me the story of the White Lady, and the mysterious extra statue that appears only at night and only out of the corner of your eye. We stop and sit on a bench overlooking the sweeping slope and Dad opens up the thermos flask and pours us both hot tea. We are well wrapped in our winter coats and warming our hands on the plastic cups. Dad spots a hedgehog, ambling along the path. We watch it for a while until it vanishes under the bushes.
On the way home we see a bat fly right past us. I can't recall what he told me...probably the latin name for the bat and something about their habits. We continue our walk home, lighting our way through the dark paths with our sturdy torches. I recall we laughed. Dad played his harmonica. Not loud, just a low lament, western style.
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