This weekend I had the first time experience of stepping on a yellow jacket nest. Let's just say I wouldn't recommend it. In trying to manage the fierce itching, I purchased a bottle of Campho Phenique. I remembered as I dabbed it on, being at Pete and Kaye's with my friend Maria, covered in mosquito bites. Pete got a cotton swab and went over every last one of my bites. I smiled at that memory, not knowing what the next two days would bring. When I was eleven and Daddy had a life altering stroke, he stepped up to parent us. When Kaye begin to lose her sight and couldn't cook anymore, I returned the favor and had them to dinner every Sunday. I would make a big vat of soup so there was plenty to take home for lunches. And every single Sunday he'd say, "This is better than last week." Honey Crisp apples came out about that time and I would slice them, make a caramel sauce and toast some pecans. Both he and Kaye loved that dessert. I packed up an caramel apple bar and took it to his grieving grandchildren. He was their last grandparent, all now gone too soon. He taught us funny camp songs around many a bonfire and now I've taught them to my gramerlings. He was always a comfort when I was upset and proud of me when I did good. He came to look at every house we wanted to buy to tell me why I should or shouldn't. We would wrap presents together and make the best bows. He was one of the hardest working men I've had the pleasure of knowing and I surely wished life hadn't been so hard these last years. I know Pete, you've joined the mighty angel band and I know my people were happy to have you.
The weekend was busy with sweet weddings of two nephews, but Pete, the hurricanes and troublesome news from recent tests of people I love has left me with more sore places than those caused by wasps.
Life
Peace like a river friends.
