Miles away from Deadfern Parts One and Two

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Written over the span of two days. Grandsons visiting. 'Nuff said....

Part One:

While waiting revisions from beloveds on The Deadfern Miracles, I'm living vicariously through my eldest, currently on holiday in our former stomping grounds of England. My husband and our family lived in the UK for almost eleven years, and while hubby and I have visited twice in the last seven years, this is the first trip for any of our kids. So far it's a total WIN, despite the heat, both in London and further north. The grandgirls are finding their mama's childhood home quite the thrill, and my daughter and her hubby are happy, if not at times hot. Temps should cool down this weekend, but the British Museum was affected by the heatwave, several exhibit halls closed, and some exhibits removed.

Of course, over five thousand people have died in Europe due to the heat wave, and I don't mean to diminish that. My granddaughters have found it odd how infrastructure exists for keeping people warm in winter, but air conditioning is severely lacking.

As they travel by train, bus, and of course the initial flight over, I've felt such joy for their destination, reminiscing with my husband about this, that, and several other parts of a life that was another chapter, seemingly far away, but returned to the surface as our descendants traipse across the English landscape. And I'm having a bit of a hard time keeping myself here on the North Coast, even while we entertain the grandsons, HAH! I find myself living in two worlds, and at times two timelines, that of the late 1990s-early 2000s and 2026. Funny how one's mind traverses corporeal existences with, um, relative ease.

Is that because we all LOVED living in the UK? How current political movements feel so opposite to what we knew, which is an extreme generalization, but I'm going with it. Although, Count Binface reminds me how witty and silly and timely British people can be.

But I'm digressing.... Actually, I'm icing my knee prior to an outing with the grandsons. I'm certainly not the mum I was when living in England. Nor am I the abuela I was eleven years ago when my two eldest grandkids arrived. I'm not the writer I was back in 2006 when starting my fictional journey. I began my first novel six months before we left the UK. So many threads weaving my life into what it is today.

A crocheted blanket made for me fifty years ago by my grandmother. Currently it adorns the guest bed.

As I hang out with grandkids, as I wait for The Deadfern Miracles to come home, I'm grateful for all the roads I've traveled, pleased for the holiday road my daughter is enjoying, and happy for other beloveds nearby. Every day is a new adventure; make yours beautiful and filled with peace.

Part Two:

I truly meant to get this posted yesterday. Yet the Pacific Ocean intruded, then my youngest grandson came down with a stealth sore throat and fever. Immediately I was in Grandma-Mode, hence blog posts, etc, were scuppered. Today he's feeling much better, as is my spouse, currently mowing the front yard. Meanwhile France and Morocco are in the second half of play, and eldest grandson and I are watching the action. (Youngest grandson slipped into bed for a needed nap...)

Mbappe just scored for France. Shoot. We're pulling for Morocco. Sigh....

Forty-some minutes later I'm icing my right meniscus. The days of playing two-square with my grandsons is over, lol not lol. France won, two-nil. Grandsons are outside with their grandpa. Dishes are done. It's Thursday afternoon on California's North Coast. The beloveds visiting England are in bed, probably asleep. I could write about the beach; it was sunny, breezy, and eldest grandson found about forty sand dollars in the debris field left from high tide. Sometimes the shore gives up her treasures. And sometimes the currency is magical.

The currency of love is magical too. Miracles results when that currency is spent, not pounds or dollars or any other monetary example, but of love, kindness, and when my twenty minutes here are done, bag of not so frozen peas placed again in the freezer, I'll snap a photo of what youngest grandson drew on the white board.

Sweetness!

He's seven. Not tall enough to reach it without a step stool. Watching him draw, I considered how in too few years he'd be standing on the floor in reaching that height, staring me in the eye. Time blows by like nobody's business. It's the ninth of July, where has 2026 gone? Silly questions when guests steal my heart from mundane activities. I love blogging, but I adore them more.

Speaking of which, eldest has come inside. Not sure what Part Two was supposed to be about, but I'll end it as I did Part One: Every day is a new adventure. Make yours beautiful and filled with peace.

Now, time to play some cards with the eldest grandchild, hehehe.... 

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