I am overfed tonight and peaceful. We had our Mother's Day celebrations early. Two Mexican meals for me! Chris and Ruth brought takeout (from Hula Hut - always a huge treat) for lunch and Joanna took me to Jorge's for dinner. In between everybody but Bob, who is still resting his back, but better, went downtown to watch K.K's end of year ballet demonstration. Ballet Austin doesn't do fancy recitals with costumes and such for the little dancer. Each class of young dancers does a simple demonstration dance in practice clothes, relaxed - and the finale is a dance by the BIG dancers (now K.K. and company. It is amazing to watch the progression of dance skill through the levels.) The little ones are just cute kids trying to point, turn, leap, bend with some degree of grace and unison. The big kids are DANCERS doing real (and not easy) choreography with precision, discipline, style. I've seen K.K. every year, progressing, progressing. What a delight. Seeing the progression in one performance increased my appreciation of how far she and her peers have come.

Ruth and Chris went kayaking this morning, first time since Mira died. They love kayaking, and I hear sparkle and energy in Ruth's voice when she talked about getting ready to go out on the river. After their adventure, during which they found lovely photo shot spot involving wild hill country beauty and a random chunk of pink granite, they came to our house for a lunch. They brought the take-out from a favorite Mexican restaurant and a bottle of blackberry wine. I set the table fancy. I gave Ruth my Mother's Day present to her in memory a Mira. They use the dragonfly as a symbol for Mira and so I bought her a piece of dragonfly yard art - named it "the Mirafly" and both of them picked up the language. Memorials are sad, but there is a sweetness even when we should be waiting for Mira not memorializing her.

Dinner alone with Joanna was good for me - a chance to catch up with her at this crazy busy time in her life. So much is changing. Her childhood dog, Lily (who I remember as a sweet handful of pup, a fearless fence leaper terrified of storms, a good friend to Joanna, died of old age- sad for the whole family. Every time a pet dies - and I know I've written this here before - I think about human mortality and the passing of generations. So much is gone and so much is yet to come.