Life and times fly when we are gathered, if only for a few days.
Then it's parting time again,
and she's got "that far away look in her eyes."
Together we made Turid bread and Serina's own apple cake. Cake, not pie, with melting ice.
We enjoyed an art exhibition, rock and classic music alike, and picked the last apples from our only tree.
Serina contributing all the time with double espressos, violet cow t-shirts and histories from campus and her performance as technical genius.
We shared computer problems. Serina was getting help from her dad, I was mentored by Serina and Gunnar set up his own teaching firm, and is now a com.no. Serina, like her father is such an inspiring and patient teacher; she modeled for my 101 pictures. We watched lots of feel-good DVDs, Rovered on the island in heavy autumn rain and following moonlight, while i-podding the Toreador, read and discussed Vogue, shared laughs over the local culture journalist, went treasure hunting at a flea market, dined out, in the car and at home with equal great pleasure, sorted out four huge sacks of clothing to send away for charity, teased and cuddled, did some minor shopping and puff; the bells were toiling.
How fragile, yet valuable, were those hours of togetherness.
The comings and goings are part of growing up and getting an education and a life of her own.
The only thing worse would be, our daughter not being able to do just that.
"Parting is all we know of Heaven and all we need of hell."
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
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