Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. -- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Frankie and Slim
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
That is beautiful, Annie. I will watch to see what else she says.
ReplyDeleteOooooh...this was a hard one for me to read, having lost both of my parents. I think it will be a wonderful tool for those who are experiencing what this wonderful, gifted woman is going thru, too, but I don't know if I can read it on a daily basis. Too close to home.
ReplyDeleteAnnie, re your comment: I can assure you that I am all too real and none of it is made up. I may sound strong to you, but I am not as steadfast as I might appear here. My children take a great weight off my shoulders when they visit, and they and their children cheer us up so much while they are here. I did cook dinner for them, and that tired me out a little, but I would have been cooking even if they weren't here.
ReplyDeleteMy business is a little slow for the next 10 days, so that is not a problem for me. I will admit that virtually nothing is getting done around the house, and even when I have time to do it, all I want to do is blog. LOL
That is a very emotional blog. The sketches show the depth of her dear mother's struggle, and I'm sure doing the sketches provides a closeness that is deeper than if she just sat there and watched her mom.
ReplyDelete