Some books I dabble in, constantly. I was given the 'Treasury of Verse' by a dear friend. I suspect it may have been his original school copy. Stained with ink, as it is, it suggests slightly childish storage?
Though the friend was no longer young, when he gifted this to me, I have treasured this book, & the memory of our shared love of poetry.
He used to leave me romantic notes, in beautiful hand-written calligraphy, at the place where I worked. I would get a "Page", to come to collect something from the office. I knew the office staff had read the missives, (he never sealed them... ego??)because I would see them, peeping, to see who the recipient of such romantic gestures, & wonderful poetry, could be?
I think of my romantic gift giver, whenever I read this book of verse. I see his face, his champagne eyes, his curling black hair, and I hear his ready laugh.
The two small books are a panacea for my love of miniatures, & I love the words contained in both the books.
I am so happy to see the First Dog has finally been chosen. How gorgeous he appears, how thrilled those two young girls, at this wonderful joyous dog!
I knicked this photo from an official website. He does look like a very handsome and worthy dog, for the position of America's First Dog.
I confess, like a lot of folks, I had never heard of Portugese Water Dogs before.
Now I am sure, the demand for these lovely dogs will soar to ballistic heights, which may not be a good thing at all.
I wish all the dogs involved, safe, loving, and healthy, happy lives.
Now for the Hellos ...& the Goodbyes.
A train station, or an airport is a place where one can observe greetings, & farewells.
Our Son, when he visits, travels by train. As we are a 'Rural' destination, we see many glad or sad greetings and partings.
The 'Weekend Father', who has his children clinging to him, as they sit on the curb, waiting for their mother, to come to collect them. Often they seem reluctant to leave the father. It is sad to watch as they cling to their father, then gradually withdraw from his embrace, to stand alone, when their mother arrives in her car.
The agonised farewell, the mother sitting in the car, head in hands, hiding her face, as if to deny the existance of her sometime partner. The father of her children, ignored or partially acknowledged. How sad for the children, torn between two loves.
The father, clutching the children close, telling them he loves them.
The mother, still hiding, hands over her face.
We see them, or similar, every time we stop to drop our son off, or arrive for collection.
The sad ones, the glad ones, taking possession or leaving the children behind.
The children, not wanting to take sides. Not wanting to betray either parent, hiding their true feelings, so as not to hurt either parent.
I watch the children, their guarded little faces. Who can say how they will eventually handle their own adult lives, as a result of their fractured parents.
Airports are different matters. Often the farewells are more dramatic. The travelling one, eager to begin their new adventure. Edging away, with slight body language shifts.
"Let me go!"
The parent, if that is the one left behind, silently pleading,
"Dont be so eager to go. Stay a little longer!"
Or the greetings, on arrival. The slightly withdrawn posture of the returnee. Not wanting to give away the newfound freedom. Or a slumping at the thought of returning to old restraints, perhaps.
The overjoyed parent, so glad to have it's child again in the arms of love. Or the child, returning, perhaps from a bad trip, so glad to be among family again, clinging, loving so fiercely.
So many faces of love, relationships, gladness, sadness.
Tears. Tears of joy. Tears of guilt. Tears of utter sadness.
Hello and Goodbye can contain so many different meanings.
Beatles, Hello Goodbye.