After a hearty breakfast and more conversations in a private dining room, we left for home, driving from good weather into torrential rain on the M4. I'd survived long hours of sitting yesterday with little discomfort, and drove two thirds of the way back without grief, my longest spell behind the wheel since summer last year.
Sadly, getting to church was impractical, and we wanted to return by lunchtime to have as much time as possible with Rachel, scheduled to leave us tomorrow morning. I hate being unable to attend Mass on a Sunday. My solitary prayer efforts instead never feel like a match for praying within the body of a community of faith, wherever it may be. I just had to accept and offer up the experience with thanks as well as regret.
It turned out that apart from a last supper together we didn't have that much time with Rachel after all, as she had booked to have a special massage in the afternoon, and return borrowed guitars. Such is life. It doesn't always work out the way you think or hope it will.
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