Day One Hundred and Twelve

It was Sunday morning, the last day of May.  I gave my new housekeeper her salary and went about the business of getting ready for the day, and for church.  But I found myself weeping too much to go anywhere, so I stayed home instead.

Rain was softly falling.  I sat on the steps and saw it, listened to it.  I thought the bottom of my flip flops looked strange, hanging where they always did.

My eyes and my face were still hot from crying, and I wanted to get some rain water from the barrel in the yard, to put on my face.

When I went to put on my flip flops, I saw that they were not like my flip flops.  They were the right size, but they were brown, and not blue.  They also felt newer than my blue flip flops.

I searched, but did not find my blue flip flops.  I put on the new brown flip flops and went down into the yard.