I’ve been going through an old photo album tonight. Wow. I don’t do this very often but it’s amazing how pictures do take you back to a moment.
I was looking at photos from a 1992 trip to Europe that I took with Greg and his mom. We went to Paris and then on to England that May. Greg had made arrangements for us to visit Stonehenge and we spent a couple of days in Avebury, England, which I loved.
One of my favorite photos from the England part of the trip is of Greg’s mom having breakfast at the place we stayed in Avebury.
Doesn’t Miss Joy look like she’s having a fabulous time? We all were.
Earlier that morning I had experienced one of those moments that stays with you forever. I woke at dawn, hearing something I couldn’t identify. I got out of bed and went over to the window and pulled it inward to open it. I looked out onto the church from the 1600s right across the street, and there on a path beside it, in the garden, was the peacock I was hearing. It was chilly, especially for May, and I quickly retreated to the bed and snuggled under the heavy covers for a bit more sleep before beginning the day.
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