Yesterday Bren had surgery early in the morning, in Tupelo. Around 10:00 Jim called and said she was in recovery. I told him, "Make her behave!" He said it all when he said, "She's a Phifer, ain't she?"
We went to Ameca to eat and Jim's cell appeared on my phone and it was The Phifer herself. I could hardly believe she called that soon! She'd just eaten lunch.
After work I stopped at Walmart then went home and made Paul and me a roast beef sandwich from what I'd cooked in the Crock Pot Sunday. My cell phone rang and this time Bren's name appeared.
"Hey, whatcha doing?" she asked. "Guess what? I'm on my way home!"
She had a hysterectomy. Twenty-three years ago this was major surgery but today it seems to be only a little more serious than having your teeth cleaned.
She loves her flower beds and I hope she stays out of them for a while; or at least gets her half-grown grandsons and Jim to do what she wants done. She might manage to stay on the deck and look out over her small valley, reading her favorite books, and counting her blessings.