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Bathed in memories in Bath


Sam and I at the Large Bath

I was first in the old Roman spa town of Bath, England, in 1983, with a husband and a small boy in my arms. That little boy is now married, about to become a father, has just graduated from law school, and his father and I are divorced. Nothing is guaranteed, nothing stays the same, but most things were also at one time bathed in golden rays of sunshine. That day 31 years ago was beautiful and fine and filled with pride and accomplishment in being parents.

I have been back to Bath several times since then, most recently a few weeks ago. It amazed me how much I had forgotten about this ancient town: the swans, the Avon’s parks and sculptured water falls, the great pub and restaurant food, the cricket fields, and the honey-colored stone terraces in front of which the rich preened and paraded.

Perhaps my forgetting was about being just another overwhelmed mom on holiday, making sure a small boy stayed safe, fed, clean, and swaddled in his mother’s love.

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