klwilliams

September has rolled around and has almost brought us to October. Milford, the professional writers' conference held every year in Wales, has come and gone again. I remember my first time at Milford, in September 2007. I was dazzled by all the interesting people (and their stories!), the beautiful mountains (Mount Snowdon! when it wasn't foggy), and the fun times spent wandering the ruined slate mountain or hanging out with new friends (and wine) in front of a roaring fire. This year Milford has finished, and eight friends that I met in Milfords past were there, but I wasn't.

Today is also the tournament to choose the next Prince and Princess of the Principality of the Mists. I enjoy this tournament quite a bit. It's local in flavor, since the combatants are usually well known to me (though lately they seem awfully young), and the site for the combat is never too far away (about ten miles, this year). I'm not there this year, because Chaz isn't excited by Medieval combat, and I have trouble walking on grass. Still, I look forward to hearing my friends' adventures, and possibly hearing what the incipient Bard of the Mists, katerit aka Other Branwen, composed for the fighter who comes in second.

In September 2007, I had returned from Milford a day early, so that I could go the Mists Coronet tourney and compose a piece for the winner, since at that time I was the Bard of the Mists (for the second time). My friend maestrateresa came with me, even though she felt a little tired. She always felt a little tired, then, as she always had some major medical issue. Pain haunted her, always present and waiting to strike. We had a successful day, and she got to see many good friends. We made it home safely.

The next week I had a business trip for my job, off to Chicago to say nice things about the product I was in charge of. The day before I left, Teresa and I had dinner together. She was very happy, because the job she had as an intern liked her so much they hired her on permanently, and let her work remotely (from home). She was about to finish her degree, she had real money coming in, her beloved children were adults, and she'd survived the latest devilment, breast cancer. She'd won, she announced. She was happy.

I went on my business trip, and when I came home I called her immediately. She didn't answer. She always answered, or called me back within minutes. She didn't call me back. I tried again, after a little while, but I knew. I called her son, my elder godson. He'd been worried, too, and come home early.

It's been six years. Your children seem happy, one married to a great man, one going to college. I've been to Milford again, and because of people I met there I met my husband. You'd love Chaz. He would love you. I can imagine you grinning at each other. I miss your grin. I miss you. I think of you every day.