Home again

Posted on 18 August 2006

What can I say? I’m home but still feel I’m living a dream.

I’m not sure what I did my first few days. Gill and I went shopping for food, I know, as the cupboard was bare.

On Sunday, Rob and I went shopping again as we were having a Young family feast that evening (though Gill and Karyna did the food preparation and presentation.) While Rob went to the airport to pick up his mother, sister and her love, I straightened, laid the table, and cleaned upstairs. (Thank heavens for Mackenzie who had the main floor spotless or I would not have been able to do it.)

I was shocked when I saw Mother Young. It’s been nine years since she was last here and the jump from 77 to 86 is considerable, more so, as she battled with cancer last year – or was it the year before? She has shrunk in size but when I talk to her, she is the same. I have always admired her. She has never, or so it appears to me, been caught up in appearances. When Rob and I started living together – around 37 years ago – Rob called her. She was happy that he wasn’t alone. I didn’t dare tell my parents: I pretended to be living with his sister.

So the Youngs gathered at our home. Sarah, the bride-to-be, not blushing but beautiful and her fiance Rene, also beautiful, and her youngest brother. Her eldest arrvied just before midnight with his daughter. Our house was full.

On Monday, Gill, Mother, Kathy, Richard and I met Sarah, Rene, his mother and sister in India town for lunch and costume shopping for the Garden Party Friday evening.

On Monday evening, I drove Michael and Mackenzie to the airport. Mackenzie’s father is very ill and she is sick at heart. She adores him so and is willing to confront her fear of flying to be at his side. And Michael, my middle child, who has a tender heart, is going to support them both.

Michael tells me that he will not be missed, in all the flurry, but I beg to differ. He and Mackenzie are missed already by more than me.

On Tuesday, Gill and I shopped for wedding cake items and then attended a shower for the bride in the evening.

Since then, I have been consumed with wedding cake planning and preparation. I want to produce the most beautiful wedding cake ever. (It appears that I like to add pressure to myself, even here.) This afternoon and evening, I will be decorating and pray that no mishaps will happen, that it will come together perfectly, beautifully.

I think that making such a cake is like writing a fine story. First one produces the outline, the base, then edits, cuts each layer so each tier is balanced, and then polishes so all is perfect in form and matter for public consumption.

After the wedding Saturday afternoon and evening, I will return to my prose.

Wish me luck.


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