Misty-eyed

Our family members left this morning after a farewell breakfast. We were sad to see them leave, and wished they lived closer. For some time into the day, my mother was actually sad. She's rarely anything but cheerful, so this was a different twist. We went about the normal routine, and fortunately had a warm bright day in which to move about and get distracted.
Just delved into George Eliot's honking novel Middlemarch; I've liked the other works of hers I read long ago, and I prefer her to Jane Austin.