We have decided (well, Gavin and I anyways) that 2010 will be called "The Summer of Grandma".
"It feels like I am packing a kid for camp," I told Jeff as I ironed on a few name labels, rolled and packed clothing, bagged shoes. Sympathetically he glanced at me and then looked away - away from the half-packed suitcase and empty hangers. "You are," he said gently, "you are."
And that is all I can write now. It's far too sensitive for more (and the kleenexes are running out).
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