This weekend I thought of Psalm 131: 2b: ” . . . my soul is even as a weaned child.” I still miss my mother and our wide-ranging and deep conversations. She loved the city and I belong here in a small town. I remember my intense grief and now it is over 10 years since her passing.
I continue to read the Psalms to find peace and for the beauty of language.
Each person’s journey is unique.
In loving memory of Enola M. Borgh (1917 – 2004). We shall meet again. Love still grows.