I have little to write about today; last night R & M and I camped in the tent, while D and A stayed in the house and then left early for some Dad-daughter time and some errands. This morning I've taken down and packed away the tent, put away the other gear, set up our 3-man tent to confirm all is good for the weekend, and packed that away too, and rescued a grackle from some very territorial chickens. This afternoon I plan to make much strawberry jam form the berries R and I picked yesterday. The weekend and its camp/canoe trip in Algonquin is coming quickly.
So today, without much to say about the day, I will write about people. What got me thinking on this is talking to my mom this morning and having her say "I read on your blog..." - words one doesn't really think of their parents saying. I'll keep it short as I could ramble on for some time and completely embarrass them. Then again, I may do that anyway. I think too I am realizing that I can remember when my parents were the age I am now, and I'm realizing that someday the girls will have memories of me too.
Mom. This lady is wiser than she gives herself credit for; many of the things we have talked about over the years have influenced my life, for the better I hope. From teaching me to knit (at which I am miserable) to cooking (at which I am much better), to making me practice piano when I DID NOT want to, to the late nights she stayed up baking before Christmas. I remember little insignificant things like how I would curl up on the floor of the car by her feet during long drives (yeah, like we'd ever do that now), and how when Dad was away we'd take turns sharing the bed with her. I always knew she supported me ... not that it was said in so many words, but I just knew. I remember her making me go in for extra help when I did badly on a test and should have done better, but I also remember her taking my case to the principal when I was unfairly marked on a test. She epitomized for me a person with the gift of hospitality. She continues to surprise me; it wasn't until we moved to the farm that we started hearing all these stories about her childhood on the farm, stories I had never heard before.
Dad. If a guy could go on about how he's smart and everything, he could - but he never did. I didn't know until I was in university that when he wrote his chartered accountancy exams, he had the top marks in the whole country. Dad always had a sort of quiet strength that I depended on; a humble but very able leader. To this day I remember with great fondness our early morning outings on the golf course in PEI - I didn't golf most summers, but I walked and we talked. What about? Not much I can recall, except DON'T jingle change in your pocket when someone is setting up a shot, and rake the sand traps after you're done. The key thing was the time together. I think that is what warms my heart to see D making one-on-one time with the girls a priority: I know how they will remember it someday. I remember squishing into the lazyboy chair with him, watching TV or puzzling over just how he knew all the answers in the crossword.
Much more I could say. I know it's rare, and the more I live the more I see just how rare it is. I hope I have not taken it for granted, though I'm sure there are times that I have. To count Dad and Mom among my best friends is a true privilege. I hope we can be parents like that to our girls.