What a nice day. It was hot though, highest temps being in the upper 80s. It would be Indian Summer except that we have not had a freeze yet and that is one of the criteria.

Dick opened the door to the bedroom at 6:30AM and Chelsea bounded up onto the bed and woke me out of a very deep sleep, I could even remember the last part of the dream that I was in the middle of. I was telling some little girl that it was alright that she could not understand something yet. That in a year she would. I told her about trying to read some book when I was her age and could not get it but that a year later I loved it. WHAT did that mean?

Then Dick took his nap and Chelsea went with him so I had a couple of hours alone. So I baked the pumpkin pie with the fresh pumpkin that I had cooked and pureed yesterday. I had mentioned to Bobbie yesterday that I was going to do so and that she and Bill were welcome to join us for dessert. She called this afternoon and they WERE able to come. Boy was it a good pie. I tell you anything from "fresh" or from scratch is usually best.

I finished sewing the lapels on four CWI sweatshirt jackets and cut out the collars. I should have them done by mid week. The upcoming week is so quiet. We do not have even one doctor appointment. I can hardly believe that. We do have to have a lab test done. I don't know if we could just go cold turkey.

We had the stew for supper again tonight. Boy am I glad I found THAT recipe.

I wrote the following poem at a writer's class that was taught by Ellen Kort, Wisconsin's poet laureate. I had submitted it in the Jade Ring contest for WRWA. That contest was over last weekend. I had mentioned the poem to Joanne, one of my fellow 1958 graduates, and told her I would print it here when the contest was over. So here it is.

SHE WAITS

by Mary J. Kunert

I am weary with the burden of time.
My mind feels young but tires too soon
Because my body lets me down
Before I am done with a task.

What is this new me?
This skin that's parchment thin
This hair that's white and sparse
This unsteadiness of feet and gait.

He went ahead, you know,
And left me here to wait.
But I know that he hovers near
Just barely out of reach.

One day, he will appear again.
One day, reach out his hand
And say to me, “That's long enough
You come along with me.”

And I will join him, young and vital,
And walk with him to the place
That has been promised
And we will be forever.

Make your Sunday special.

Mary