As on every other Sunday, we sat in the "newspaper room" in our twin chairs reading the Sunday morning newspaper.  The pink chairs were purchased when we moved into this home 17 years ago.  I was expecting my first grandchild at the time.  I remember the salesman telling me these were perfect grandma chairs because they rocked and they swiveled.  I wasn't sold on the pink, but the chairs were so comfortable, and they did rock and swivel.  

Now, the chairs are very worn.  They are no longer pink.  Newspaper print has rubbed off on the fabric.  Babies have been rocked in these chairs.  Christmas morning activities has been witnessed from these chairs.  Easter egg hunts have been witnessed by these chairs.  My chair, the one on the right, held me when I heard the worst news of life. It was here where I heard my Amy say, "Mommie, Julie is dead."  

Still, this chair is always a comforting place for me to go.  It speaks of home, of family, of times with my husband as we rehashed what we read in the paper.  Back in the day, when my hubby was working, I'd sit in this chair reading and say, "I see you made the newspaper today."  Thankfully, he always seemed to garner good press.   One morning I read he had physically apprehended a student who had a knife in his hand as the student attempted to exit the building after making a threat.  That was after I had asked him what had happened at work the day before and had received the reply, "Nothing really."  When I read the news clip to him saying, "I thought you said nothing happened at school yesterday."  He said, Oh, that's right.  I forgot."  I guess it was just another day in life of a high school principal.  

Yes, this room, these chairs hold many memories.  We will take the chairs with us.  We've talked of getting rid of them since they are so unsightly.  I think they will make the move.  We will reupholstery them.  They are comfortable.  They rock.  They swivel.  We do like them.  It is the room we will leave behind.  This room, called the "newspaper room" by the grandchildren, was the setting for our last Sunday morning paper reading today.  I raised my coffee cup to my husband and said, "Here's to this room and our last Sunday in it."  

We needed to keep packing, but the sun was shining.  The weather was warm, and we needed to settle our minds about leaving the place where we have lived for so long, so we went to the Pueblo Riverwalk for one last Sunday walk with Boston.  We go to the riverwalk nearly everyday, but Sunday is a special day because so many others are there walking when the weather there on Sunday afternoons.  Located in the heart of Pueblo, a walkway runs beside the historic route of the Arkansas River.  Just this past week, on a beautiful fall afternoon, I spotted a beaver in the river that runs right through the middle of the city.  Can you see him in the middle of the photo?  Good thing I had my iPhone with me.  

We couldn't spend our last Sunday in Pueblo without going to our favorite spot to spend a Sunday afternoon.  We ran into friends who were either walking or eating on the pizza on the patio at Angelo's.    I don't think we can take a walk on a Sunday without spending at least 15 minutes chatting to friends along the way.  We will miss this.

How could we have our last Sunday in Pueblo without buying popcorn from Taffy's?  Well, we didn't think we could, so we went to get our Sunday popcorn.  They were closed!  How can that be?  The sign on the window said, "Closed.  No electricity."  That is when we remembered that the power was out all over downtown because there was a fire at the electrical plant.  We had learned that while chatting with our friends at the pizza parlor.  The waitress had come out to say to our friends that they were having some difficulty with the bill because the power was out because of a fire at the power plant.  Our car was parked right next to the power company, so we saw all the commotion as we left to go get popcorn.  I guess we should have known.

Another routine for Sunday involves Boston being groomed by Jim.  We came home so Jim could get that done.  The last roses were blooming.  I've tried to ignore the roses this week.  The sprinkler system is off.  They are not getting watered.  I decided to just let them die for the season and not get emotional. As I stepped onto the back deck to watch the grooming, I saw my beautiful Easy Does It rose was not done blooming yet.  I decided I had to snip the last blooms.  I could not let them remain on the bush to die.  I had to enjoy their beauty.

Try as I might, I can never quite capture the richness of the colors of this rose with a photo.  Of course, perhaps I should try to photograph it with something other than my iPhone.  We do have a fancy camera around here, a Nikon D90, but I never bother to get it out.  I guess I am not a serious photographer at all.  Despite the poor attempt at photography, I am amazed at the colors that do show in the photo below.  

We may be in a state of chaos around here.  I haven't cleaned for several weeks.  There are boxes all over the place.  We are moving, but I decide I need one last round of roses in the house.  This bouquet was for the table next to my chair in the family room.  The roses go in my two favorite vases next to my favorite portraits:  one of father, and one of Julie surrounded by my seven grandchildren, her beloved nieces and nephews.  This week of goodbyes will go better with roses in the house.

I was struck by the absolute beauty of this:  the last full bloom from the rose bush I planted in memory of Julie.  It was the best full bloom from this plant I'd picked all summer.  It seemed to say, "I've saved the best for last."  

This day, our last Sunday in Pueblo, blessed with perfect fall weather.  We spent it doing what we love to do.  The day was full of sunshine and the colors of autumn.  The reds, the yellows, the oranges of fall put on a wonderful show of vivid color for us today.  

At home, I then was blessed with this rose.  The tinges of yellow blending into vivid orange softened by light pinks and apricots around the edges of this beautiful rose reminded me of a sunset.  Drinking in a beautiful sunset at the end of a day always brings such joy.  One is grateful for such a gift that reminds us of the blessing of that day as it ends.  Such is the feeling I get as I look at this rose.  Our days in this place that has been our home for so long are coming to an end.  Jim has lived here nearly 61 years.  I have lived here 20 years.  This is the town where we met as teenagers and where we have lived as married couple.  We will miss it all so much.  We will miss the town, the people, our home, our special spots around this house, our garden, our flowers, and so much more.  We carry so many memories with us as we go into a new day.  This season may be ending for us, but we are not done blooming yet.  We are off to cultivate new memories in a new place.


I'm adding my daughter Keicha's post about our dearly loved home.  Read it here:   Letting Go.