April 17, 2006
Tomorrow is my last day of “no injections” for a while, because chemotherapy resumes on Wednesday. Time appears to move differently – speeding along in the joy of days that are simply commonplace. I didn’t go to church on Easter Sunday morning after all because my body informed me upon awakening that this would be a quiet day of slower movement and inner contemplations. Charles played his Easter’s opening prelude for me on Good Friday eve after the church service and after people who left in silence were long gone. It was grand and one he had not played before; (César Franck’s “Piece Heroique”). It began quietly and built up to huge and arresting chords that seemed to express very nicely the movement from a still morning’s visit to an unexpectedly open tomb to the monumental joy of “Jesus lives! The victory’s won!” When Charles returned from the three services at Plymouth, he carried with him a gift for me from the TV crew – a DVD of the service that we then enjoyed later in the afternoon. We watched and listened sipping tea and eating apple pie, making it a perfect commemoration of the day.
This evening we will celebrate the sixth birthday of Kira, our second oldest granddaughter. She is full of energy and loves “sparklies” above all things, so I went through the costume jewelry that ends up tucked behind other things and found some to give to her in several dear little boxes lined with handkerchiefs that I brought home from my mother’s house after she died. There must be about fifty of the latter, some everyday prints, some embroidered, some with black tatting around, presumably for funerals. They are nicely ironed and consigned to a forgotten past, so I selected some printed in bright flowers and hearts for this occasion.