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"The Wondering Jew"

Jun. 27, 2004 - 21:51 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

At Its End

Heather and I woke up to a cloudy day and wet sidewalks. Every now and then we would take a look and see the walks almost dry, and the next time we looked, wet again.

Today is the day the management of our apartment complex set for the picnic they give the residents every year in the summer. Fortunately it did clear up long enough that most of those attending did so with dry feet. None of us needed to hunt shade -- it was all shade. Bad thing was we saw no one we knew there, but the food was good.

Rested a bit while noting that it was still undecided what it was going to do about the precip. thing.

On into the afternoon we started out to our daughters house on the west side of Denver for a quiet little party for her grown and married daughter. Started raining as we were leaving, growing worse as we westwarded. Quite a few dips after we got off the freeway that held bunches and gobs of water. Navigable, but very slow going. Some of them were deep enough that we watched to see if people ahead of us were going to make it. On the west side of our town the slope is mostly downhill to the Platte River which bisects it north to south and of course the water was seeking its level.

The gathering was nice and the little kids had a good time, which included the birthday lady's kids.

It was still raining when we headed home but had slacked off a bit. On the way home the gloom seemed to hang in clouds about us. Sundays are the days we always visited and ate with Rob. Neither of us mentioning anything about Rob to each other, but it was obvious to me that the same thoughts occupied our minds. We try to keep from feeding each other into depression by mentioning it, rather trying to think of interesting things to say.

Did get a few journals read and some e-mail answered, and this pitiful excuse for an entry. Now I'm going to bed as Heather has already done so and dream that things are once again bright, shiny and lively. But for me this is my day At Its End . . . . . . . . .

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