Buried Treasure in the Backyard

While I was working in my new backyard transplanting peonies, my new neighbour Patty brought me a bowl of gluten-free spaghetti and meat sauce. What a great neighbour! 

I've hired Patty to repaint the main floor of my house, so we've been spending a lot of time together. I told her that I had hit something solid with my shovel when I was digging in the backyard. It was a strange light blue colour and it made a strange noise when the shovel hit it. I had no idea what it was. "Come, I'll show you," I told her.

"Maybe it's buried treasure," Patty said hopefully.

"If it is, we'll split it," I replied.

So we started digging ... and digging.

I had a feeling this might be an important moment, so Patty kept digging while I went to grab my phone camera.

We hoped we wouldn't uncover a dead animal, like a beloved family pet. Mostly we hoped it wasn't a buried power line that was about to zap us or cause chaos in the neighbourhood because of our curiosity.

We dug and dug and the light blue surface kept getting bigger and bigger.

I sent a photo of it to a contractor friend and asked if he had any idea what it might be. "It sounds like porcelain, " I told him. 

"Very strange," he replied. 

Meanwhile, Patty kept digging and we discovered that this thing was rectangular and had rounded corners.

With one last turn of the shovel, Patty flipped our buried treasure up out of its resting place. 

We laughed and laughed! 

Wow. It is Porcelain! 

It's the top of a toilet tank!

Why was it buried? No idea. It doesn't really matter to me. "I'm keeping it for its story," I laughed as I hauled this blue treasure to its new spot in my yard - above ground!

"We're not any richer, but we've got a great story," I told Patty, who replied with a hilarious comment...

"We're still splitting it! One week it will be in your yard, and the next week it will be in mine." 

We laughed and laughed some more at our new bonding backyard adventure. 

You know they like selling your books when...

One afternoon in October, I was delivering more stock of our terrific books to a local store here in Regina, Saskatchewan when I was overcome with gratitude.

I had just stepped inside Local Market YQR (at 1377 Hamilton Street) when I noticed a brand new, handbuilt book stand that was holding a collection of books I publish! I was surprised and thrilled!

I then sought out co-owner Tim Shultz to let him know I was dropping off more books for their store to sell. He asked if I'd noticed the new bookstand. I definitely had. "Did you make it?" I asked.

He grinned and nodded. I was thrilled and told him so.

"I thought we should have something to display the books," he said.

Wow. It's not every day that a store owner builds a bookshelf to house your pride and joy! Sure, there are a couple of cookbooks and cards on the stands that my company did not publish, but still. Most of the items on display are books I created. How cool is that? 

Tim Shultz with the bookstand he built for Local Market YQR

I had met Tim a few months earlier when I attended a Business Network International local chapter meeting for which my son, Dave Driver, is the president. I enjoyed the Local Market YQR's meeting space and was pleased to see the attached retail spaces with many locally produced products such as food, household supplies, and personal and decorative items.

In a state of unusual forthrightness but not-unusual excitement at seeing handmade items and the efforts of like-minded entrepreneurs, I said to Tim that day, "You should sell my books here." He listened to my descriptions of the types of nonfiction Prairie stories and fact-based kids' fiction books I publish and replied with, "Yes, we should. We should put your books in our Founders Market."

Wow. Me, a founder. I was honoured. I don't usually think of myself in such terms, even though it is true. I did found my publishing company, and I do take the words written by myself and other Prairie authors and turn those into books, but I think of myself as more of a collaborator with my authors and consultants. Together, we make great books. But sure, I'd happily participate in the Founders Market.

Anyway, this lovely surprise happened on a Friday. The next day, something else incredible happened.. on the same theme...

I drove out to Emerald Park, about 20 kilometres east of Regina, to deliver more books to the Farmer John's Local Market & Kitchen shop. And what greeted me just inside the front door? ANOTHER amazing new bookstand!

The bookstand at Farmer John's Local Market & Kitchen shows off DriverWorks Ink books

And this one holds only the books produced by my company!

Wow, wow, and wow! I just stood there in awe, then collected myself and managed to take a photo of this large new bookshelf.

The shop's owner Audra Hill wasn't there that afternoon, but if she had been, I probably would have hugged her - or maybe just jumped up and down in happiness.

This all reminds me of the terrific support and attractive displays which DriverWorks Ink books have been receiving for several years at the Handmade Saskatchewan gift shops in Regina and Saskatoon. Owner Janelle Anderson has made sure that our books are visible in appealing ways, alongside those of other Saskatchewan authors and do-it-all publishers like me. My authors and I love Handmade Saskatchewan! (And we're excited for their new stand-alone store to open in Regina next year too!) 

Our books at Handmade Saskatchewan gift shops in Regina (Cornwall Centre above left) and Saskatoon (Midtown Mall and Lawson Heights Mall above right)

It's rare to receive such special treatment when you are a book publisher. I am honoured by this local support of our books. My authors and I work hard to draw attention to our locally produced books, and we are delighted by the care taken and the support given by these local shops.

Yet another reason to Shop Local and support entrepreneurs and small businesses.

Books make great gifts, you know. Just saying.

Third Flight book shares more Canadian aviation adventures

William Cameron entered Grade 9 at Scott Collegiate in Regina in 1942 and soon became a member of the Air Cadets squadron as required by the school curriculum. Bill’s stories for the third volume of the Flight: Stories of Canadian Aviation book series include his reminisces of patrolling several city blocks with the Regina District Civil Defence Corps, as a teenager, in case air raid sirens were activated and they needed to warn residents to turn off their lights.

Bill Cameron and friends with Lancaster bomber, Regina airport, 1945
Photo courtesy of William Cameron

Bill’s stories are three of the 33 stories in this third volume of the series, written by 15 Canadian writers including me. I wrote six stories about: Moose Jaw-based Laura Lawrence, the only commercially operating female aerial application pilot in Canada in 2017; Barb Stefanyshyn-Cote, who hadn’t flown over much water before she flew her aircraft from their farm in Leask down to Mexico and then Chile; Lisa McGivery, who had some annoying passenger experiences in her work as a flight attendant and now works as an aircraft maintenance engineer in Ontario; and Gerd Wengler, who transports rehabilitated owls and other creatures to safety and new homes in Manitoba and Ontario.

Flight: Stories of Canadian Aviation, Vol. 3 by Deana J. Driver and Contributors

Ken Wilson wrote about touring the Canadian Aviation and Space Museum in Ottawa with his father Ron just prior to the museum’s opening. Ron, a long-time pilot in northern Saskatchewan, noticed that the Beaver aircraft on display did not have a specific piece of equipment that would have been standard gear when transporting supplies for anyone staying in the bush. Ken made that suggestion to the museum curator, resulting in a change to the national museum’s Beaver display.

Retired journalist Will Chabun contributed three stories to this third volume of Flight, including details of annual vacations that Regina resident Jean Thomas took to France for 20 years as a member of the Royal Air Force Escaping Society. Co-founded by her late husband Hugh, the Society maintains contact and offers aid to those who rescued and sheltered RAF pilots like Hugh, whose plane was shot down during the war. The fiddle playing of Regina Symphony Orchestra’s Howard Leyton-Brown is also chronicled by Will Chabun.

Hugh and Jean Thomas, 1945
Story by Will Chabun, photo courtesy of Jean Thomas

The stories in the Flight series are not about the aircraft or flight terminology as much as they are about the people who had these adventures and incidents. My interest in these stories is in why they did what they did and what we can learn from those activities and experiences. I’ve already received submissions for Volume 4 of the series. Stay tuned.

Volumes 1, 2, and 3 of Flight: Stories of Canadian Aviation by Deana J. Driver and Contributors are available from www.driverworks.ca, Saskatchewan Aviation Museum gift shop, McNally Robinson Booksellers, Chapters, Indigo, Coles, Handmade Saskatchewan gift shops, SaskBooks, Amazon, and other select stores.

Not just a walk in the park - Protests, suicide awareness, grief, and hope

Over the last couple of weeks, I have taken several walks or bicycle rides in or near Wascana Park, the largest park in my city of Regina, Saskatchewan. The park usually provides me with comfort and a sense of awe over its beauty and tranquility, but the scenes on one day produced many other emotions including frustration, sadness, surprise, confusion, grief, and peacefulness.

I saw a teepee set up to protest the high rates of suicide in Saskatchewan, a group of anti-maskers holding placards, a garden of flowers, a memorial to a man who drowned in the lake, and the colourful signs of autumn.   

I visited the site where a teepee had been set up across from the provincial legislative building to protest government inaction on high suicide rates among Indigenous persons. I was in awe of the actions of 24-year-old Métis fiddler Tristen Durocher and a supporter, Chris Merasty, who walked 635 kilometres from Air Ronge to Regina to protest the Saskatchewan Party government's decision to vote down a suicide prevention bill put forward by an NDP MLA representing northern Saskatchewan. They began their Walking With Our Angels journey on July 2 and arrived in Regina July 31, where Durocher began a hunger strike and vowed to continue it until meaningful legislation was passed.

More than 40 photos were placed around the teepee when Durocher started his ceremonial fasting - closeups of individuals who had died by suicide. He had invited others to bring photos of their loved ones lost to suicide. There were almost 90 photos surrounding the teepee on September 12th. It was impossible to not be moved by the spectacle of the faces. So much unnecessary loss and pain. I looked at the faces from a distance and paid my respects silently, with a sad and frustrated heart, hoping for change soon.

On September 11, a judge had dismissed the provincial government's bid to remove Durocher from the park and allowed him to complete his ceremonial fast and vigil. That judge later visited Durocher at the site, as did numerous individuals from many walks of life, including some politicians and religious leaders. Many discussions were held.

The teepee is gone now, but Tristen's presence on the legislature grounds and his message reached many in this city, this province, and beyond. An online search of his name shows many, many stories of his protest and message. A recent tripartite letter of commitment is a hopeful sign.

As I made my way from the teepee area onto the sidewalk leading to the garden in front of the legislative building, I was taken aback to see a group of people holding signs against mandatory face masking. I was further surprised when one of the woman shouted at me, "We love you!" as I rode by with my face mask on.

I usually wear a mask when I leave my home now - because of my asthma and my desire to keep others safer from any virus or other germs I might unknowingly carry. For a split second, I thought about going back to the protesters to find out what they were thinking, but I decided against it. I was still overwhelmed in thinking about suicide and unnecessary loss of life. I doubted if anything I had to say would change the minds of these anti-maskers. I kept moving - to the garden to enjoy the flowers.

I began my bike ride around the lake and saw, on an area of grass across from the legislative building, a makeshift memorial to another young man who had died by suicide. Twenty-year-old Samwel Uko had drowned in the lake in May. Uko had sought care for mental health issues at a local hospital and had been turned away twice during this pandemic. 

The health authority later apologized for its actions. No one had been allowed to go into the hospital to support him or explain the need for his admission. This part of the sad story had hit me especially hard. As one who has made many trips to hospital either with loved ones or to seek treatment myself, I know the crucial role of loved ones as advocates and supports for the patient in health care settings. We have to do better than this.

The rest of my bike ride around and near the lake was thankfully uneventful, punctuated with stops to admire the lake and the changing colours of fall.

Autumn is a time for change on the Prairies. As we prepare for another winter, I hope and pray that we will be kinder, more compassionate and caring of our fellow humans.

Take care. Stay safe. Love one another.

Books and beauty in Medicine Hat

In July, I travelled to the beautiful city of Medicine Hat, Alberta to visit family. It had been six months since I'd seen my oldest daughter, Lisa, and her family in person. The only other time Lisa and I were apart this long was when she was travelling in Europe after completing university in Calgary. Both of those time periods felt like an eternity.

The past six months of not seeing her face-to-face, hugging her, and making in-person plans for our next book projects as authors and co-publishers was especially long with the added stress of COVID-19. I missed her and her husband, Kyle, and their two daughters, especially as the youngest was learning to talk. So when one of my closest friends invited me into her pandemic bubble to go along for a drive to Alberta, I gladly accepted. We'd both been careful about self-isolating, sanitizing, and wearing face masks when we occasionally went out in public in our city of Regina, and we continued with precautions on our journey west.

Medicine Hat is a lovely city, with the South Saskatchewan River, the hills and coulee/ravine adding to its beauty. Deer can be seen wandering through the neighbourhoods and the people who live there are typical, friendly Canadian Prairie folk who help each other out and care for their community.

The efforts to revitalize the downtown area of Medicine Hat include numerous wall murals that Lisa and I enjoyed during a morning work break.

We also talked about our newest book ventures - my two volumes of Flight: Stories of Canadian Aviation and the newest spiritual guidebook that Lisa is writing to add to her other three great guidebooks. This is exciting stuff! 

Watch the video we shot in The Hat for details, including the title of Lisa's upcoming book!

All in all, it was a soul-filling visit with much opportunity to work and play with some of my favourite people.

P.S. You can purchase your copies of Flight: Stories of Canadian Aviation here from DriverWorks Ink. The books are also available as e-books from your favourite e-book vendors.

Special thanks to Creative Saskatchewan for its Book Publishing Production Grants support for the Flight series.

Five Things you can say in February in the Bahamas but not in Saskatchewan

I recently had the opportunity to travel to Nassau, Bahamas for a week of vacation with my youngest daughter, Dani.

We had a wonderful, restful time.

The differences between the weather we left at home in Saskatchewan, Canada and what we experienced in the Bahamas were striking. See for yourself.


Here's my idea of  "Five Things you can say in February in the Bahamas but not in Saskatchewan":


1. "My swimsuit is still wet, but I'll put it on anyway. It'll dry quickly."

It was 28 degrees Celsius in Nassau every day we were there, even after a little rain fell on a couple of evenings. Saskatchewan weather was unusually warm when we were away, ranging from 1 degree to minus 16 Celsius, but it was no 28!

2. "There's a turtle!"

One of our biggest hopes was to see a sea turtle in the ocean, and we had that wish come true every day as we looked out from a nearby pier. The turtle didn't come close enough for a great photo, but we'll carry those images and excitement in our hearts. The turtle on the right is a horsehair pottery souvenir purchased in Arizona years ago.

3. "Look at those pretty flowers!"

Tropical flowers versus frozen rose bushes. Sigh. We can hardly wait for summer in Saskatchewan.

4. "Oh, thank God for that wind! It would be so hot otherwise."

Even though the wind stirred up the ocean and blew my hair all over the place, I love the feeling of standing on a pier, staring at the clear blue water. The wind in Regina, Saskatchewan, on the other hand, can be downright nasty. Even after wearing my toque yesterday while going for a long walk, my ears hurt for hours. Sigh again. But Saskatchewan is home and I love it here.

Which leads nicely into the final thing
you can say in the Bahamas in February
but you can't say it in Saskatchewan...

5. "I'm just going to leave my shoes here and go barefoot for awhile."  

  

 Nope. Not even for a minute.
Underneath those cold feet on the right are flip-flops sitting in the snow. I'm not that crazy!

Have a great day, everyone!

Kintsugi Art and Healing From Grief

I broke some pottery the other day.

On purpose.

I hit it with a hammer.  Then I took the broken pieces of that beautiful piece of pottery and put them back together. With glue. Then I painted over the cracks with gold paint and glitter.

It was a healing exercise.

The pottery repair was one of the activities during self-care time at an all-day grief retreat hosted by Palliative Care Services, Saskatchewan Health Authority. The activity is called kintsugi, a Japanese art form meaning “golden joinery”, in which broken pieces are considered an essential part of the object and are embraced and highlighted instead of hidden.

At the start of the kintsugi exercise, we each chose a piece to work on. We were asked to look at the whole, complete piece of pottery before we broke it and view it as though it was ourselves before we lost our loved ones.

We put the pottery piece inside a plastic bag, then inside an old pillowcase and tapped it with a hammer. We took the broken pieces out and carefully "rejoined" them using glue, masking tape, and help from others to hold them together until the glue set.

Then we either put more glue onto the cracks and sprinkled glitter over them or we painted the cracks with gold glittery paint. I did both. There was glitter everywhere. Many hands helped me along the way. A metaphor for healing.

I attended the first Heart 2 Heart Family Grief Retreat, held in July 2017, as a participant (read my blog post). It was a wonderful, full day of talking, crying, healing, and more. Since then, I helped co-facilitate a bereavement support group and I was honoured last fall to be asked to be one of the 40 or so volunteers for this January grief retreat.

Unlike some retreats and workshops I’ve attended in the past, the volunteers for Heart 2 Heart did more than lead the various groups for Loss of Child, Sibling, Parent or Spouse. They also actively participated in much of the day’s program, because they too had lost someone they loved – a family member or a close friend.

My role at the grief retreat was to provide peer support for a Loss of Spouse group, sharing a bit of my story about my husband’s death two years ago and talking about what has helped me on my grief journey. I know, from my own time as a participant and from other bereavement support I have received, that the words and actions of others have helped me. My goal was to help those who are just beginning their journey after losing their spouse.

The volunteers and participants shared their stories, insights and coping skills within the specific groups. During self-care time, the participants experienced massage, yoga or meditation, walked the outdoor labyrinth to reflect, or joined a discussion group to talk more about their loss and about strategies for moving forward. We ate meals together, allowing for more conversation, and finished the day with a memorial service complete with a choir (in which I participated) and the beautiful piano accompaniment of our leader, Bereavement and Volunteer Co-ordinator Marlene Jackson. Without her dedication and skills, this day would not have happened and I definitely would not have been there. I owe her much gratitude for helping me along my path.

There were many tears shed that day, but there was also much healing.

I came home from the grief retreat completely exhausted. Mentally, emotionally and physically.

But I met some wonderful people – participants and volunteers. That made the day good.

I knew I had healed a bit more. That made the day great.

And I knew I had helped others on their journey. That made the day amazing.

I also came home with a beautiful piece of repaired pottery – a physical reminder of my grief journey.

The repairs to my pottery are not perfect, but neither is my grief. The glue and glitter are bumpy and lumpy and messy in spots. So is my grief.

The cracked lines may join the pieces together but there are still holes in my pottery and there are cracks that I did not yet glue together.

Such is my grief.

Such is my life after loss.

I will always miss my late husband Al. I am still profoundly sad and there are tears shed almost every day, but I am allowing myself to feel my pain and I am working through it.

There will be a hole in my heart every day for the rest of my life because of his death, but events like this grief retreat and bereavement counselling have helped me start to heal those cracks and carry on the best I can.

My brokenness is part of me. I will hold it together as best I can and maybe, occasionally, at events like the grief retreat, I can even show it off, helping others along the way.

(Another of my blog posts you may be interested in, What I've Learned About Grief, includes tips for those who are grieving and what to say and not say to the bereaved)

Busing it to Medicine Hat to sell books and carry on while grieving

I travelled by bus to Medicine Hat, Alberta from my home in Regina, Saskatchewan on the weekend – to do some work, including a signing at the Coles bookstore in the Medicine Hat Mall. I also enjoyed a visit with my eldest daughter, Lisa (who is also an award-winning author), my son-in-law Kyle, and their five-month-old baby girl. It was the first time in decades that I had travelled on a Greyhound bus and it was quite the experience.

I chose to take the bus because road conditions on the Canadian Prairies can change quickly, especially in winter months. I didn't want the stress of having to drive for almost five hours during a snowstorm if the weather turned bad. I thought an experienced bus driver could do that for me and I could figure out how to close my eyes and pretend everything was alright if the weather changed for the worse. Which it did, of course.

The drive there was fine. 

There was very little snow along the drive on Thursday morning. It was surprising to be able to see the fields. I did some people-watching on the packed bus – which stopped at many different communities along the way, offering plenty of opportunities for new characters to board and attract my attention.

I saw travellers who had either little income or no desire to care for themselves clothing-wise or hygiene-wise. These were people of all ages. There were younger males who explained to others that they were travelling across the country because of the downturn in the economy. (It is close to impossible to not overhear others while waiting at a bus terminal, especially boisterous young males.) Some travellers were older and by themselves. I gravitated toward older women, as they seemed closest to my age and life story.

During our lunch stop in Swift Current on the way there, I sat at a table with an older woman who also turned out to be a widow. We had a lovely visit and discussed our grief and how it takes years to process it and learn to live with it. We also talked about how others who are not as affected by our loved one’s death have carried on with their lives within days or weeks. It is hard being a widow. It is hard being alone. Our conversation offered some healing moments for each of us and we were glad we’d found each other on this journey, among this bus full of strangers.

On the buses there and back, there were a handful of riders who had obvious mental health problems. One talked loudly and explained his illness to anyone in his path. He was obviously a nice guy, but definitely sick. I wondered about him and felt sad that his drug use caused more problems for his mental health and daily interactions with others. One young man had visible twitches and made many trips to the bathroom on the bus ride home. Another yelled out in his sleep. It was enough to make me uncomfortable and I thought about the bus drivers who meet these people daily and take them onto their buses, hoping everything goes well – which it did on my buses.

On arrival in The Hat, I was met by my daughter, son-in-law, granddaughter, and this terrific sign:

It was the start to a great weekend.

As always, Lisa and I spent many hours talking about our books, marketing ideas, book awards contests, future book sales and signings, and other strategies for our respective companies - her Above 540 and my DriverWorks Ink.

It began snowing on Friday night and continued for the rest of the weekend. We visited and worked, drove through the snow, and visited and worked some more. (And I got in plenty of Grandma cuddles!)

Oh ... and we got our toenails painted! Thanks, Lisa, for the early birthday gift!

On Saturday, we had a signing event at the Coles bookstore in the mall.  Lisa signed her award-winning spiritual book Opening Up: How To Develop Your Intuition And Work With Your Angels and her new book Leap! How To Overcome Doubt, Fear And Grief & Choose The Path Of Joy. I signed two non-fiction books that I have compiled, Cream Money: Stories of Prairie People and Fun on the Farm: True Tales of Farm Life.

My granddaughter is the cutest co-signer I've ever had!

At the signing, we held each other up emotionally and spiritually when people asked about Lisa's new book, Leap! In it, she shares details of her own story and how she felt when she heard the news in August 2015 that her dad (my husband, Al) had colon cancer. She shares what that diagnosis meant in her life and how she coped with that situation at what should have been the happiest time of her life – a time of expecting her first baby.

Our entire family lived with hope from the minute that Al got sick. He chose to fight with all he had and we chose to be there beside him, doing whatever we could to keep all our spirits up and LIVE in every moment we had together. Unfortunately, in December 2015, the doctors surprised us with news that they could do no more. Al passed away two weeks later, on January 4, 2016.

In her Leap book, Lisa talks about overcoming feelings of doubt and fear as well, but mostly her story is one of carrying on through grief. She shares meditations and exercises and strategies to help readers overcome these obstacles and events in their lives.

It was tough for me to read her story, hearing my own child's pain. It was emotional for me to edit it and publish it. But she did it and I did it.

The story is difficult but important.

We know it has already helped others. 

"I am reading your new book and cannot put it down! It is filling me with the inspiration and affirmations I require. Your opening of your soul so openly in this book has me examining every inch of my own soul and filling it with love and appreciation for the journey I too am on."

We know Lisa's new book will continue to help others. And we are confident that Leap, like her first book, Opening Up, will win a book award too. It’s very well written.

So every time Lisa and I get together – as happens with my other two children and their partners – we talk, we listen, we care for each other. We miss our dad, dad-in-law and husband. We talk about him. We love him and each other. We grieve. We cry. We laugh. We hug each other. And we carry on.

Al and Deana Driver, 2013

The little one's fingers on the window were a precious sight as she looked out at the snow.

The bus leaves Medicine Hat going east only once a day. At 3:15 a.m. 

As the bus depot's answering machine's voice message says, “You heard that right; 3:15 in the morning.” You cannot buy a ticket “at this ungodly hour” – a comment that made me laugh out loud – but if you buy your ticket ahead of time, as I did, you can get on a bus driven by an experienced driver who will head out onto the highway even though it’s been snowing for three days and is still snowing, and there are warnings to stay off the highway.

It's quiet on the streets of pretty much any Canadian town or city at 2:30 in the morning. Medicine Hat is no exception.

I tried really hard to sleep while the bus driver did his job. The one kind-of-open lane of highway caused me some stress.

And it got a little worse partway home.

I did not take photos during the worst parts. I closed my eyes and said a lot of prayers.

But we made it! And I wanted to express my appreciation to the driver.

As he handed me my suitcase, which he had just pulled out from the storage compartment under the bus, I handed him a $20 bill. "I haven't taken a bus for years and I wanted to thank you for getting us here safely."

He just looked at me, so I asked him to please take it. He lifted his arm up and out a bit and asked me to "put it there", under his armpit. Ummm... okay.

As I turned and started walking away, he followed and stopped me. "Do you know that this is only the second time in 26 years that this has happened?"

"That someone gave you a tip?" I asked.

"Yes." 

"Well, you deserve it." And I left. Perplexed. I understand that people who ride the bus may not have much money but ... really? Not even a dollar? Sad.

My daughter-in-law Kelli and my youngest grandson picked me up from the bus depot and drove me home. I cherished the hugs and the "Welcome Home" sign made by my four-year-old grandson.

As I shovelled snow, I thought about the weekend and all its experiences and interactions. 

I saw this mug in Lisa's and Kyle's cupboard and I used it all weekend.

Profound and appropriate. Exactly.