My Mother turns 80 this month and we are planning a surprise party for her in a week or so. I’m going through all our old photos to make a photobook and my life is literally flashing before my eyes.

I found this one of me with my favourite stuffed bunny rabbit. It was my calm reassurance that allowed me to drift off to sleep each night.  My mean, ugly sisters played monkey-in-the-middle with it and tug-of-war. Mom washed it so often it literally broke in two and she left one half at the country house and the other at home. I remember one day it got caught in the pulley at the end of the clothesline and with tender patience Mom tried to convince me that a substitute would do the trick.  No go.  My Dad climbed the tree, in the dark, to retrieve it for me. I still feel the relief that washed over me that night.

Fascinated by the old photos, Korey asked why they were in black and white.  I told him there was no colour back then. His response was angelic. “But the world was in colour, wasn’t it?”