The roses from the party are fading now, these were used to decorate one of the cream cakes. For many weeks I have focused on the garden party, and when it was over an all the guests left I was afraid that emptiness would fill the house.
I had no reason to worry. It is summertime, and the living is easy. People are travelling and The Blue Café is always open - for dinner, a walk in the garden, coffee, talks yes, lots of talks, for friendship. And the huge diningroom table fills day after day.
Memories are shared through photos and words. My childhood photo album makes family tales flow like sweet wine around the table. "Oh, I remember that dress" "Can you see the black ribbon I am wearing, it is because my father died that year" "Yes, he died, but before that he met his newborn granddaugher, baby Britt-Arnhild, once, and I will never forget how he put his hands on her sweet, bold head and blessed her"......look at this, look at that, do you remember.....................
I close my eyes for a moment and breath it all in. The eager talk, the laughter, the family bounds, the love. This is life, and I am in the middle of it.
Before saying good bye, Vicki from Seattle, the wife of my mother's cousin, write in our guest book: I had to fly thousands of miles to see The Blue Café and The Blue garden in person.
Photos: our dininroom table last night.
