We're back from visiting with my mom in St. Lucia, and I'm emotionally wiped from the knowledge that we may never again be in that place together. My mom is so frail now, and when my brother comes to take her back with him to Jamaica on July 5, she may well be saying goodbye to the only home on earth that she feels is wholly hers. It is a bitter thing. I will write more later, or put up pictures. But right now I have errands to run as my girl will be going to her job as a counselor assistant at the sleepaway camp tomorrow. She will be gone 8 weeks, though she'll take a week off somewhere in there for college visits with us in tow. I got sick yesterday, a summer cold that came on hard and furious when I gave in and cried. My mom didn't see me. She was in the bedroom counting nighties and dressing gowns in case she had to go to the hospital. Her head and her heart weren't "feeling right" and she wanted to have a bag packed just in case. My daughter did see me cry, and she circled me with her sweet magic arms. After that, I had a cold. I think it is because I cannot cry my way through the day, there is too much to do, but my body knows I am sad to leave my mother so fragile and shaky and stooped with age, and it is releasing my tears another way. That's my mom in her favorite chair on the front verandah, from where she can greet and visit with her many guests. She is well loved. She is surrounded by people who want to take care of her. But no one can do what she truly needs, which is to give her back her mobility, her ability to do for herself. She bears it, though. She bears it with a dignity that is almost painful to observe. She is just beautiful.