On the day the pinkletinks began to sing, Beth Flanders Campbell finished her life on Earth. I first met Beth 30-something years ago, but got to know her better when our daughters became a fabulous trio in elementary school. We swooped in and out of each others houses for sleepovers, impromptu musical performances, dance parties, pizza parties and more. Beth’s passion for books, the stories that filled them, a life that delivered her to various destinations and experiences within them, led to creative conversations that were always wrapped up with a dose of bubbly laughter.

Smiling and bubbly is the way I will remember her. Somehow it seems fitting that I was reading the last few pages of a good book when I heard she had taken her last breaths. Although she has been laid to rest amongst friends and family that went before her, a celebration of her life will take place in the near future. For now, if you find the time, jot down a “Beth story” or two to share on that future date.

Each time I hear the thunderous roar of the pinkletinks’ symphonic escapades I will take a moment to think of Beth just like when a chickadee chirps I think of Emmett Carroll. A red tail swoops low overhead gives me that nudge to think of David Flanders, and when I see a ladybug it brings my thoughts to Emma Parker.

When the rain pours and pitter patters along the commercial dock I remember Matt Poole and when I sit at a table lined with a Thanksgiving-like meal I think of all the Sundays when grandma Bette would fill her table with family and friends for a meal. Memories are bittersweet.

As I write, I am returning from a memorable trip with my extraordinary daughter. We ventured to Denmark and Norway with a small side-trip over the border to both Sweden and Finland. The goal, a bucket list item as they say, was to see the northern lights. We were successful. I am happy.

I’ll have more town stories next week. Right now, I’m just going sit quietly to take a few more moments to revel in the joy brought by this mother-daughter adventure.