The irony of having a crisis in the spring is, well, the guilt of it all. Our precious newest grandbaby is struggling in a major hospital, and I'm listening to birds in the trees. Pulling weeds. Other than the perpetual cloud over my head, and rushing to the pc to check my son's and dil's blog 50 times a day, things are, well, normal. I feel like a . . . traitor.
She is struggling for life. Ventilator. Feeding tube. Heavy stuff for a 5-month old.
I can't get away til our girl finishes school, next week. So, I'm . . . deadheading the roses. Taking pics of my first peony. Pruning the nandina. Mowing, edging, praying.
So, 7 days til I can be there. Big traitor that I am, here are pics of my guilt:
1 comment:
His name was Eddie Ellis...B
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