Take me back thirteen years six weeks from now (Dec 19) when I first saw Bea's birth papers and to the sensation in me of reading not her birthday on the papers but my grandpa's, and then into the future to today when my grandpa, Loren Draper, would have turned 100.
I am stumped.
Bea is scattered. Yesterday was in fact the wrong day and today was the right day. I was fortunate to have the day off, to meander, to apply the ashes naturally. I donated blankets and other items from her to the humane society (the blankets were truly appreciated), and I took her along from there. (She was with me.)
Tomorrow may be back to the grindstone; out for a swim right now, then back to writing. but I will always wonder, what were the odds?