Today, February 18, would have been my mother's 88th birthday. She left this world 15 days ago, felled by cancer. Mary Allen, as we knew her, always believed she would die young, because both her parents did. That turned out to be a wrong-headed notion. Eighty-eight is certainly a respectable age.
A "burn pile" of tree limbs, branches, and other yard trimmings on a neighbor's property
It will seem strange not to pick up the telephone and talk to MA this afternoon. She had come to Saint-Aignan a couple of times and met several of our neighbors. I had been traveling back to North Carolina to see her once or twice a year for the past 15 years, so I got to know many of her friends and neighbors. We had a lot of people we enjoyed talking about — not to mention all the members of our extended family. RIP, MA.