Once again, and this time I’m forty-eight, I find myself enthralled with Aunty Janice and Uncle Roy.
The first time was when I was sixteen and lived with them for a summer. I hated to leave and after Aunty Janice said yes, we’d love for you to stay, I begged my parents to let me move out here and finish high school. Of course they said absolutely not.
Now in their eighties, Aunty Janice and Uncle Roy have slowed down a tiny bit but their zest for life continues to shine through in their post-retirement (Uncle Roy still does some contract work) life.
They are the bookends of their family. Strong, solid yet intricate and beautiful bookends. Not the kind that tip over, ever.
Involved in the planning of yet another son’s funeral, second in six weeks it’s unimaginable. Yet they do it. There are tears here and there but they keep going.
Flanked by adult grandkids who so graciously and maturely help hold them up when they need it.
Aunty Janice insisted we go shopping yesterday. Honestly when we first arrived I wasn’t sure if she’d find the strength or willpower to even get out of bed in the morning.
But they keep going. They lean on each other. They sit and have their glass of wine before dinner each day.
I said to Uncle Roy, why do you never age? What kind of magic pill do you take?
He says “Janice”.
bloom.planted.north 
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