Last Saturday, my nephew Scott graduated from high school. When I really think about this, it is almost impossible to get my head around the concept. It was only yesterday that he and Seth played Go Fish with some girlie cards they found in a closet at Honey and Ken's house. Mother and Daddy had just moved to Simmons Mountain, and they were somewhat excited themselves that the Ling's horses were loose in their front yard. Naive that anything could absorb the boys attention more than six horses grazing, they called, and called, and called to Scott and Seth. Finally, the boys indulged them and peeked through the shutters with polite inattention. It stumped Mother and Daddy, but they continued to watch the horses. Scott and Seth continued to Go Fish, and were moving cards at such a pace that Mother and Daddy remained at the window and enjoyed more simple pleasures. The innocence of childhood and the short attention of youth left cards strewn, and the mysterious behavior bared.
The girlie cards disappeared, and for a few years, the boys riffled through the closet shelves, until their own memory of the game faded. Sometimes we tell them this story, and they grin.
Honey looked forward to Scott's graduation, and wanted to attend. Early last Saturday, she hoped that she could be released from Memorial Hospital early enough to stop by Brad's house after the ceremony and spend a few minutes with Scott. Mother was ready to leave Memorial Hospital by 10:00 a.m., but it was not meant to be. I don't remember what time we left, but it was afternoon, and Mother was so tired. We both had a lot of anxiety about the transition from the hospital to health care, but neither of us dreamed that Dora Rice was in our future. Dora is Mother's roommate, and we had such a treat in store.
Life is full of simple joys, and ultimately, it is the creative spirit in each of us that gives us the hope to connect across politics, religion, and race. My mother is very tired right now. I am still telling the story of last Saturday as we almost touch tomorrow's Saturday, and Mother is still tired. Brad and I have relied on Patti to call us when Mother has side effects from the coumadin, low heart rate, or any other need.
I rely on Brad and Patti to visit her each day and call me with any news. Mother is weak, and she is thirsty for MSNBC, Chris Matthews, Larry King, the energy to read her email, and the energy to phone friends. She is so ready to sit in the lobby of Canyon View and work with her new friends on the jigsaw puzzle. She is still shocked that walking and standing are so hard, and she will always be such an unassuming person that she will never understand why her friends might want to read what I write. In fact, I think a few have already asked her who is interested in this drivel.
In the meantime, I hope Mama's friends will tolerate my musings while I search for better content, like Dora's mama's potato soup recipe, or 2009 photos of the James Boulevard Giving Joy to Others House that gave Mother and me a reason to park the car and pause, as we both readied ourselves for her transition from Memorial Hospital to a health care facility.
The girlie cards disappeared, and for a few years, the boys riffled through the closet shelves, until their own memory of the game faded. Sometimes we tell them this story, and they grin.
Honey looked forward to Scott's graduation, and wanted to attend. Early last Saturday, she hoped that she could be released from Memorial Hospital early enough to stop by Brad's house after the ceremony and spend a few minutes with Scott. Mother was ready to leave Memorial Hospital by 10:00 a.m., but it was not meant to be. I don't remember what time we left, but it was afternoon, and Mother was so tired. We both had a lot of anxiety about the transition from the hospital to health care, but neither of us dreamed that Dora Rice was in our future. Dora is Mother's roommate, and we had such a treat in store.
Life is full of simple joys, and ultimately, it is the creative spirit in each of us that gives us the hope to connect across politics, religion, and race. My mother is very tired right now. I am still telling the story of last Saturday as we almost touch tomorrow's Saturday, and Mother is still tired. Brad and I have relied on Patti to call us when Mother has side effects from the coumadin, low heart rate, or any other need.
I rely on Brad and Patti to visit her each day and call me with any news. Mother is weak, and she is thirsty for MSNBC, Chris Matthews, Larry King, the energy to read her email, and the energy to phone friends. She is so ready to sit in the lobby of Canyon View and work with her new friends on the jigsaw puzzle. She is still shocked that walking and standing are so hard, and she will always be such an unassuming person that she will never understand why her friends might want to read what I write. In fact, I think a few have already asked her who is interested in this drivel.
In the meantime, I hope Mama's friends will tolerate my musings while I search for better content, like Dora's mama's potato soup recipe, or 2009 photos of the James Boulevard Giving Joy to Others House that gave Mother and me a reason to park the car and pause, as we both readied ourselves for her transition from Memorial Hospital to a health care facility.
1 comment:
Dear Honey:
I was wondering about my sudden trip to Chattanooga last week. I had no idea you were sick. Angela dropped me off at Brad's house and then disappeared for a very wong time. It was terrrrrible. Those children were bouncing off the walls and I was a nervous wreck. She told me today that you are back at your apartment now. I am so glad.
You would be very proud of me. I got the big gopher today. It was very scary, but also fun. He did bite me though, and I screamed very loudly. Katie heard me and came to my rescue. She and the vultures finished that rodent off, and I went swimming.
I surely hope you sleep well tonight.
Wuv,
Harry
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