Ducks and non-ducks

I only have mornings free at the moment since afternoons and evenings are spent visiting my mother, so this morning I went to see Daughter 1. I took Grandson in his pushchair to Dr Neil's Garden by Duddingston Loch. We looked at the ducks - some of them were not really ducks but Canada geese or herring gulls, but I felt the ornithological details didn't matter much at the moment. He listened to them going "quack" and "honk" and "screech" and he smiled.

I feel so worried about my mother. On her good days, I feel that I should press to have her home, but on her bad days I'm grateful she's in hospital. Even on her good days, she's very confused but she wants to come home. Oh, the guilt and the uncertainty. What to do? But the hill is very soothing.

And Daughter 2 is still in London and I wish so much that she weren't.  

So things could be better. But for a while, with Grandson climbing on me with his rubbery little legs, beaming at the ducks and non-ducks, going "psssy" at Gus the Garden cat and looking all round with such appreciation and interest at everything - I felt happy.