The Widow, Mother of the Bride.

Home from PA last night, midnight. A long and fairly miserable flight. But here I am and fine.

Thursday night, when I arrived at Philadelphia airport, I took the Thrifty car rental shuttle, got my car, and drove to Millersville that night, in the dark, in a rented car the likes of which I'll never rent again--PT Cruiser. The drive was nearly two hours, quite complicated, challenging, but I had wonderful directions from Alyce and Ben, which I pulled over to read from time to time. I said complicated didn't I? I said dark, too, didn't I?

I stayed in Ben's Hampton Inn, the one he's general manager of, as his guest. A good room, a dandy bed, and I felt comfortable in that place. Ben, my son-in-law, he's pretty much a good guy, and so said everyone I met at the PA reception Friday night.

Sacrament meeting Sunday with Alyce, and then I took the return drive to PHL. All went well until I tried to find the Thrifty car rental place--it's not at the airport--which cost me a good bit of frustration and little little bit of fear (white knuckle driving) because I followed the Thrifty help person's directions and found myself on that enormous bridge which leads into downtown Philly. (I absolutely hate driving on those huge bridges.) She had told me to turn left where I should have turned right. That's for starters. This small adventure also cost me an extra half hour. Good I left early.

A few miles from the Susquehanna River, Millersville is in Lancaster County, PA, home of the Amish, of beautiful rolling farmland and big expanses of sky, home of trees and a lush green look. Home of old houses built flush on the street. Home of new houses, like A&B's. I like it there, in Lancaster County, home of Ben and Alyce. Now that I have seen where they live I can picture it. That helps me. Doesn't mean I won't miss Alyce, though.

Ben drove us around Saturday night and showed me where he grew up and where he went to school, showed me the railroad museum, showed me downtown Lancaster, including the Lancaster County prison, which is smack in the middle of downtown.

Their marriage, something I have great hopes for, a good happy life together. They are now a new family. Two very good people who will figure out how to be married. I think it takes figuring.

I think of them today because they both have a day off, and I wonder how they'll spend it, if they'll go someplace or open gifts or put together the last two drawers of that furniture piece.

And I thought of them today as I went to the cemetery--of their beginning and of endings, too, which is what cemeteries seem to mean.

I do not like to go to the cemetery. I've written that before. But today I wanted to go. The grave is still there, but today a lovely little bouquet brightened the place. White and orange carnations flanked the one red carnation. Mums, orchids, daisies, and this and that in colors of purple and white and yellow filled out the bouquet. No one in my family put it there. I am curious, a bit perplexed that I cannot know who did put it there, but I am not dismayed. It is a sweet touch and speaks someone's love for Wayne. I like that.

Wayne is not a war veteran--it's Memorial Day--but many of us visit our deceased loved ones on this day anyway. Usually when I go to the cemetery I'm the only one in the whole place. Not today, and today I watched the people. They stand or kneel or sit on the lawn. Some cry, some talk, some sit a while in silence. Some, I'm guessing, don't know exactly what to do. Some come alone, like me. Others come in groups and hold hands. All look down on what covers the person they wish they could see again. That last part I'm sure of.