Joyce leaves tomorrow morning, I can hardly believe how the time flew.
We had dinner on the terrace tonight, under the sky, which turned from soft blue to dark blue, to violet, to pink.
I’m looking forward to seeing Bill and the boys on Weds night… it’s Evan’s 15th birthday, and I can hardly believe how all of my children have grown. How old was Evan when he wrote this little poem? 6? 7? I wish I knew.
He hated to write the date on his schoolwork. We never knew why.