This is an old house near our place on the farm in Saskatchewan. These empty old houses fascinate me. I always wonder who lived in them, what happened there, where the people ended up. Things I'll never know.

I'm at my sister's in Westbank, British Columbia, taking a few moments "out" of the action upstairs. Mom and Dad came from Salmon Arm today with my aunt from Phoenix and my grandmother, who flew out here with my other sister and I on Wednesday morning. Dad and Mom picked us up at the airport and we drove straight to their condo an hour-and-a-half away.

It has taken me this long -- three days -- to feel rested. Mom thinks it could be the change in altitude or humidity that's had me so sucked out. Maybe. I've been waking up during the nights though, which is unusual for me, and maybe it's showing. I think it's some sort of grief, myself.

It's a huge relief to be here and see Mom is her usual self, thinking about quilting and songs more than anything. Or so it appears. All that seems different is that the phone rings more than usual with friends calling, and "you're in our thoughts" cards on every surface in their home. And Mom has scheduled herself a two-hour nap from noon till two each day. You'd think we have nothing to worry about at all.

Either she's putting on a very brave and matter-of-fact face for us, or she really is the most serene and accepting person I have ever known. We are all pretty amazed at her attitude of "what will be will be" and no self-pity or anxiety apparent, but just life as usual.

Dad's had a talk with both Karen and I since we got here, but ... other than that and the odd few words about various alternative therapies Mom might consider after she sees the oncologist on the 7th and finds out if there is anything the mainstream medical establishment can do for her, you'd think our family life is going to go on forever as it always has.

Mom's upstairs giving my two-year-old niece a bath now, and playing with her. Dad's gone golfing with my brother-in-law. Grandma and Aunt Reta are chatting in the livingroom. Sisters Joan and Karen have gone to meet someone for a short appointment over in Kelowna.

I am at a loss for something to do with myself. Yesterday I pulled weeds from Joan and Gary's flowerbed out front for an hour or two, leaving just the poppies that happened to come in with the soil they bought.

As usual with a visit, doesn't matter who with or where, I am restless as soon as I am rested.

Things seem normal, so that it's difficult to imagine anything being otherwise. Which is a good thing; maybe it's a healing balm. Really, as I look around me at the moment, I can't help feeling I have been caught up in some sort of silly melodrama for the past two weeks.

We are not a demonstrative family, and we are not public wailers, and today I feel more myself, and it's about time.