Cassie’s eyes, the same blue as the icy water below, sparkled with excitement. It was her first solo mission in her beloved Cessna 172! The weather was perfect, with no strong winds or ominous clouds. Alone in her little four-seater, she would return with precious cargo.
Five hundred miles north, Amka cradled her sleeping newborn. They had named her Uki, Survivor. Premature, she needed special care for her under-developed lungs. Cassie was their only hope.
The village listened for the plane’s engine. Reports from the radio shack encouraged them.
All for the life of one tiny baby.
I have to apologize. I just didn’t get to read everyone’s stories last week. Usually I read every single one, but for some reason I’m having trouble focusing on my usual routine. I don’t think I can blame it on jet lag any more 🙂Maybe I’mjust homesick for my kids and grandkids, and I really do love it in England. Anyway, I promise to try to do better this week.
I’m back from our two-week trip to England to celebrate our 50th anniversary with family. What a glorious time we had! Beautiful weather, lots of good food and laughter, a time of singing around the piano, and much more. It’s good to be home, but I wish I could transport myself back and forth 🙂
Wevisited Blenheim, home of Winston Churchill, and Warwick Castle. We spent time in the dining hall at Oxford, where some of the Harry Potter movies were filmed. We saw the Womping Tree on the grounds of Blenheim. So today’s prompt is perfect for me. I’m curious to see what I’m going to come up with 🙂
The angry, howling wind stirred the sea to fury. Spray from the crashing waves rose up and drenched the ruins of Corfe Castle, but not for the first time.
No one lived there now except the ghosts. They roamed the ruins, reconstructing the castle as they had known it From William the Conqueror to the crumbling ruins of this century, they saw banquets and battles, births and deaths, blood spilled, mopped up, spilled again.
And so it would continue until nothing but dust remained. The sorrows and joys of life above the pretty little village below stained the land.
Our flights were problem-free. We had wheelchair help arranged at each place, from check-in to baggage. What a wonderful help that was. You get taken to the front of the line, and everyone seems to be perfectly okay with that. All our helpers were polite, kind, and efficient.
It’s very hot here in our corner of PA. Supposed to be record-setting highs tomorrow, up to 100. Ugh. I’m missing the cool mornings and evenings near Oxford. We had wonderful weather the whole time we were there. This heat saps my energy. I’m looking around at all that needs to be done, and I don’t want to do any of it! We do have central air, which is a huge blessing, but there’s just something about the atmosphere that changes with that kind of heat.
I was just looking through Dan’s pictures, and this…
We left home around 10:30 on Sunday morning.I had arranged with the airline to have transport (wheelchair) for both of us, because neither of us is good at walking a distance these day. The escorts who pushed our chairs were wonderful. They were kind, helpful, and completely pleasant. They took us right to the front of every line, and no one was upset or unhappy with that. We breezed right through TSA, and then they wheeled us through to our gate. It’s the first time I’d ever experienced that service, and it sure saved us time and a lot of pain not to have to walk all that way.
Our escorts left us in the seats designated for the handicapped, and told us they would return to help us board. Again, we were taken to the head of the line and right to our seats on our first flight.
Babs perched on the hard bench in the musty bus depot, hands folded, knees together, shoulders back–just as she had been taught. She could have purchased a lunch combo for only $2.99, but her stomach rebelled.
It was beautiful outside. A perfect summer day. But she was too nervous to move, afraid to miss any moment of his return.
“Don’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me. . . .” the radio blared. A fat tear gathered in the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek.
His grave would be under the apple tree. . . . . .