My Mother's roommate at the nursing home is Irish. My dad brought up corned beef, cabbage and potato that he cooked for my mother. Later in the afternoon, three more generations swept into the room, the roommate's daughter, granddaughter and great grandchildren. They came bearing gifts sourdough bread, cookies, all kinds of delicacies. The first names of all the girls is Mary...Mary Pat, Mary Christine, Mary Anne, Mary Ellen, Mary Claire, Mary Elizabeth. I borrowed and held one year old Mary Suzanne for a brief moment. She wore a tulle skirt with shamrocks and could charm the leprechauns themselves. A most happy St. Patrick's Day to me (I am Irish on St Paddy's day!).
I haven't heard from a good friend in over a month. Can't help but wonder. Perhaps I'll never hear from him again and I feel sad. Maybe I overdid, took too much of his time when he would rather have been off by himself. My cowoker says not to take it personally. I feel lost. This is history repeating itself!
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