There's a plane somewhere over Canada and Mum's flying on it. Give her a wave please if she passes you by.
And there's a washing machine in Portland working overtime. Likewise the vacuum cleaner, dishwasher and other such things as I distract myself from Mum's absence. The house feels empty; no one to open the door for me when I came home; no one to make tea for; no one to comment on the weather; no one to do those unexciting things that become so precious when mother and daughter are able to do them together.
There's a dryer just finished with the sheets from her bed so it's time to work on the towels. And somewhere over Canada, Mum, I hope you're getting a good meal and good company; hope your leg's feeling okay; don't forget those exercises; and know you're loved and being prayed for all the way.