And Hope of Things to Come

Mar 4, 2017

It is a cold sunny early March day. The month stretches ahead and this morning I reflect on Marches in the past. March has a quality of its own. It fluctuates from spring like to deep winter weather. We always gauge our wood supply with March in mind although April often sees us burning lots of wood. March is a bleak yet hopeful month. In the past few years it has been filled with challenges and has sometimes been difficult to get through . I remember the March Burton left for Afghanistan as being a wet, cold, dreary stretch of days more to endure than to enjoy. March is Emma’s birthday and that is a cause for celebration. Our oldest granddaughter will be eight which is quite hard to believe. The girl’s flight home for the summer is booked so this morning I look ahead to those summer days when they will fill our home and hearts making up in a small way for their absence the rest of the year. In the meantime I will approach the coming months with anticipation for the release of my sixth book and the tour highlighting The Memory Chair as a Hackmatack nominee. I will get back to the Farmer’s market and happily display six books for sale. I will keep writing , do a library workshop, and a school visit to MCS. I will participate in WFNB’s Word Spring event in Saint John. I will judge short stories for the Writers Union of Canada and young writers stories for the Frye Festival. Burton and I will celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary, Ashlie’s 26th birthday and Meg and Cody’s second anniversary. We will face the 18th anniversary of the day we lost our precious boy. We will watch as Chapin and Brianne move into their new home and Caleb and Ashlie continue to make their house a home. March like all the other months will fly by and push us on to the next. Before you know it we will hear our granddaughter’s voices echoing in these rooms and in the fields and trails outside. Gardens will grow and we will get back in the lake. Oh the hope of things to come and the gratitude for the blessings of the past.


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