My dear sweet neighbor is in her 80’s. I want to be her when I grow up. Affectionately known as “Momma Joan” to all my friends, she is an amazing woman. Although you would never know her age if you spent a day with her, I know that time, and life, are tricky things, and I spend as much time as I can with her. I take her goodies because I accidentally make too much food sometimes, cookies, pumpkin roll, whatever I can. I check on her every day, a simple text that lets her know I’m thinking of her and her reply is often, “I’m not dead yet!” I adore this lady, she is my adopted mom and I am forever grateful to the dogs who brought us together.

Today we went shopping, because we both love Hobby Lobby. I bought more than needed, as always, and she laughed at me when I told her to talk me out of something. We are not good influences on each other when it comes to shopping

We went to the Dollar Store – the one where everything is actually a dollar – and found treasures. My current addiction is mini binders and they had a small selection for – A DOLLAR! I only bought two, because I only liked two of the colors. 🙂

We went to the Goodwill Store, but didn’t find any treasures there. We did giggle a bit at the things people donate, though!

And then we came home and I played with Maverick and did some training and settled down to do some work, thinking it had been a rather good day so far, having started with one of the best walks we’ve had in a few days and then progressing to a delightful time with Momma Joan.

My friend messaged. Her dad, who is an amazing man, full of life and full of stories, who can crack me up in an instant, broke his hip a few months ago. He’s in his 90’s and a broken hip is bad news for someone that old. He had surgery, and has gone downhill since. She wanted to let us know that the end was near. When I said I was coming to her, and she agreed, I knew it was bad – my shoes were on and I was out the door 5 minutes later. Because that’s what we do, we gather and support each other and love each other and cry together and get through the hard stuff by holding onto each other.

Within half an hour, my best friend had arrived and the three of us gathered around, talking and telling stories. I hope he could hear us, and feel the love. I hope he wakes up and talks to us again, and tells us stories – just for a bit. I pray that there are angels around him and if he must leave us, he goes gently into their arms.

Joy and sadness. Too many memories of other old ones, lying in bed, waiting to move on, too many tears. I am, at times like this, eternally grateful for the blessing of good friends, who drop everything and come running. Thank you, Mother and Poppa, for teaching me how to take care of the people I love.