Living in the city, no matter the size, is waking in the morning to the smell and feel of fresh night air. A yawn and a stretch later, that intoxicating aroma is smothered by the sickening odor of exhaust and fumes of an awaking city full of automobiles rushing to a destination of “another day, another dollar” hoping to make ends meet in an increasingly greedy world.
Closing the window as if closing my mind to this life in the city where each house surrounding ours feels like claustrophobia crowding out the freedom I felt on the four acres that was once our home in the country. Will my longing for a return to that life ever cease?
Children’s eyes are different. They do not view life the same as adult’s eyes do. Young people see each day or each event as an opportunity for adventure.
Recently, my grandson and his friend shared an ephemeral moment in the rain, one of those moments that was as forever memorable as it was fleeting.
Two eight-year-old boys walking in the rain, pouring from giant buckets in the clouds. They could barely see their water soaked shoes as they splashed through growing puddles on their journey toward a moment of discovery two blocks away… pipes and drains, drain fields, and rising water. How did the water get in the pipes? Why was the water rushing out of them like a firehose? How much water could the drain field hold?
Shivering, wet, and cold, yet undeterred, they returned home full of excitement and questions about their discovery, each of them barely noticing the towels their mothers wrapped around their soaking wet bodies, heads shaking the water out of their hair like puppies shaking their furry bodies, twisting and turning and wagging their tails hoping someone will pay attention to them and pet them lovingly.
This was a moment frozen in my mind as I longed to be eight again to feel the freedom and excitement of new discoveries… even in rain-soaked clothing. Not having a care in the world other than having fun with my friend in a field in the rain. Even in the city…. Children’s eyes are different.
I wish that at almost 60, I could relax and enjoy the freedom of discovery on a rainy afternoon like a child, and not worry about my shoes being wet, or my hair looking flat, or water dripping onto the carpet upon my return. Adults view life differently.
I’m not saying one decade of life is better or worse than another. It’s just different. Ahhhhh….
Tuesday, I took my mom to the doctor to discuss the pain in her knees. His office retook X-rays of her knees and said there was nothing broken. He gave her a cortisol injection in both knees, said she probably has a “bone bruise” from her last couple of falls, and sent her on her way.
She was thrilled there were no limitations placed on her (except for the excruciating pain she has been feeling) so she was free to attend the outdoor concert with her friends by the river. These friends and my mom have all lost their husbands. So, they really enjoy their “girls night out.”
The friend who picked my mom up drives a minivan so all of their friends can fit. (There are five women in total who ride to the river together.) She put my mom’s walker behind the back seat in the van. As she closed the hatch, she looked my way, then walked over next to me and asked if there are any restrictions or instructions from the doctor that she should be aware of.
Mind you, my mom’s friend just recently decided to get up off her “deathbed” and start “living life again.” She hardly eats anything. She is so small and frail, looks like skin and bones. She is younger then my mom by 3 years, but looks older than her (from all of the weight loss). I almost couldn’t contain my reaction when she asked me about my mom’s restrictions and then said she will take care of her the best she can. It was so sweet of her, but…really? Oh my! I thought later that I should have asked if her she was given any instructions or restrictions from her doctors and should I go along to help take care of all of them?
My mom’s friend is my friend’s mom.
My friend and I met in the 2nd grade. (We are almost retirement age and our moms are in their early 80’s. Well, I guess maybe her mom is only 79 or so.) Anyway, we went to school together, even double-dated in high school. We both married navy guys who each go by the same name. They have different legal names, but go by the same name. We were each other’s bridesmaids in our weddings. We kept in touch when she moved out of state to the upper Northwest and when I moved out of state to the upper Midwest. We sent cards and letters over the years to keep updated about our kids and our lives. We were the best of friends. But, distance and time can change things.
Mostly, misunderstandings can change things.
We are both back in the same town where we grew up. Unfortunately, we had a couple of falling outs over the years and she even stopped talking with me for several years. We are back on speaking terms and we try to get together with our husbands for dinner every now and then, but the closeness will never be the same.
My friend and I have both lost our dads. She lost her dad to covid in 2020. I lost my dad to watershed strokes in 2024. I am hopeful, that soon, my friend’s mom, my friend, my mom, and I can get together for lunch or something. That would be such a cool moment, all of these years later.
The sun was dropping, the air was cooling, and the shadows were lengthening as I briskly walked around the almost two-mile loop at our community park. Several snapshots of life jumped out at me as I progressed along the path.
There were groups of small children talking, laughing, and squealing as they ran from one gym equipment piece to another. Parents were loitering around the playground equipment, visiting with other parents or keeping their eyes on their cell phones and their ears glued to the sound of the ones they were responsible for.
Opposite of them were a group of older gradeschoolers running back and forth as directed by their soccer coaches. They were listening intently and working hard. Parents were seated nearby in camp chairs they had undoubtedly carried with them from their cars in the parking lot. I wondered how many of the parents were friends outside of this practice circle. How many of the girls were friends at school or in the neighborhood?
There was a young couple sitting on a bench. He had his arm around her. She was looking up at him, talking flirtatiously and giggling as she pulled her feet up and tucked them in under her small frame. Ahhh… young love. How did they meet? How long had they been dating? Will they end up together?
Since I was walking the opposite direction of most people I saw friends walking and talking, a middle-aged couple walking their dog, a multi generational family, and a couple in their 30’s holding hands as they walked and talked deliberately, lost to the world around them.
There was a young couple with a cute toddler girl who was having a bit of a meltdown. They were lovingly trying to comfort and console her, but she was not having it. As I walked past them and her cries faded further in the distance, I remembered that stage of parenthood and felt connected to them for a moment. Then, the moment passed, and I was grateful my children were grown.
It felt as if I was walking into the setting sun, past nastalgic snapshots of my own life’s memories, grateful for every stage along the way and even grateful for where I am today, with most of those stages of life behind me.
Sigh….
Looking forward with gratitude…that I can look behind with fondness.
“Mom, do you want to go to see a movie with us at the theater?”
She said, “Yes, I would like that. it has been a long time since I have seen a movie at the theater.”
As a child, Mom got to see movies for free anytime she wanted because her dad, my grandpa, ran the movies at the theater in the small town where she grew up. She and her sisters spent a lot of time watching those old reel movies that their dad played.
She asked what movie we were going to see. I told her it is a movie called “Last Breath,” a true story about the rescue of a seasoned deep sea diver.
Mom does not have as much pep in her step as she used to, so we walked slowly from the parking lot to the theater building. We arrived early so we could pay for our tickets and purchase popcorn and drinks and find good seats. There were not many people in the lobby. We were able to walk right up to the counter and make our purchase. Apparently, it has been awhile since we have been to a movie because upon purchasing a ticket to the see our specific movie, the guy behind the counter pointed to the screen in front of me and asked us to choose our seats for the duration of the movie. That was a first! There were only 4 or five that were taken already, so we picked the perfect seats directly behind the wall which was located behind the handicapped area.
Mom was happily impressed that the tin bucket of popcorn even had a handle, which made it easier to carry with her drink as we walked to the napkin counter to pick up napkins and straws for our drinks. I always get fruit punch to drink with my buttery popcorn at the theater. It is the best combo!
We made our way to the theater at the end of the long hallway passing theater after theater rooms. The ads were already playing as we made our way to our chosen seats. The first challenge was to open the seat while holding a drink in one hand and popcorn, napkins, and the straw in the other hand. I backed up to my seat and slowly and gently slid it open as I sat down. My mom tried the same thing. Hers was more of a PLOP right down than a gentle sliding of the seat. She exclaimed she thought she was going straight down to the ground. We had a good laugh as we settled in, placing the drinks in the holders, removing our jackets, and placing the tins of popcorn on the napkins our laps. I’m sure Joe was picturing a scene from the Three Stooges, but he was the smart, cool one. Haha.
The ads on the screen were not the local ads we were accustomed to seeing. These were national ads that we see on TV. I guess they had to keep the movie theaters afloat somehow. National ads pay more, I’m sure.
When the movie finally started, we were sucked right in. Woody Harrelson played his part well. They all did. The movie was suspenseful and every time something unexpected popped up, my poor mom nearly jumped out of her seat! We had a few good laughs, enjoyed the popcorn, and a great movie together.
I am so grateful for a mom who is willing to experience new activities or ones she has not done in a long time, even in her eighties!
When my dad was my age, he was retired, as was my mom. My parents traveled to see us where we lived in the upper Midwest at the time. Those were the best years for my mom. She loved to travel, which must be where I get my love of traveling and adventure!
Numerous events happened the year my mom was my age. It was 2001. It was the one-year anniversary of my paternal grandfather’s passing. My husband was diagnosed with MS. 9/11 happened. My husband took early medical retirement in October. I quit my job in early November. We sold our house and moved back to the western side of the Rockies where my parents still lived. That was the last long trip my parents took, when they drove out to help us move back home.
My parents seemed so young and active when they were my age. I feel so aged with the stress of working full-time and my health issues. In fact, I am waiting for the results of an MRI I had done just yesterday. It seems I may be having an MS exacerbation. (Yes, my husband and I both have MS, diagnosed 10 years apart.) I have new and worsening symptoms of numbness in my feet and hands, muscle cramping and tightness, heaviness in my legs with walking, and exhaustion in the afternoons. I don’t know for sure. It may not be MS, it could just be stress. I will know for sure in a couple of days.
Anyway, I am grateful for the time and money my parents spent in traveling out to see us when we lived in Minnesota. We have many fun memories of time spent with them there. We took many walks around the parks along the Mississippi River and even took a boat ride in my husband’s boat on the Mississippi River a time or two. We have fun memories fishing, spending time at the cabin, shopping thrift stores and pottery shops, and sharing our day-to-day activities when they came and stayed with us.
I remember the first time they came out to visit us. They were not used to the humid summers in the upper Midwest. My mom mentioned more than once how strange it was to take a shower in the mornings and put on fresh clothes from the closet that felt like they were almost still “wet.” They were used to the dry desert heat back home. That was when we figured out we needed a dehumidifier. Dehumidifiers were not a necessity in the west, but they sure keep a house dry during the dog days of summer in those quaint little river towns along the Mississippi River.
Thank you for letting me share a walk down memory lane prompted by this question.
Sitting quietly in the living room slightly reclined on the sofa, I am breathing easy and wishing for many calm relaxing moments like this. My husband is resting in bed. I am sitting here alone with my thoughts and my laptop. It is a frigid 13 degrees outside, but a toasty 73 degrees inside.
My sister lives around the block. It’s not a square block, but it is within a short walking distance. She has the best space for gathering our family together. Today, she and I celebrated our January birthdays with our families. We served pulled pork and slaw on a bun with fruit and veggies on the side. It was a simple meal we could easily serve on paper plates for easy cleanup so we could quickly start a game of Farkle after dinner. Have you played Farkle? That game is addictive!
My daughter made a luscious lemon birthday cake with raspberry filling and white chocolate ganache frosting, topped with a beautiful barely pink edible peony flower (that she made) and edible gold leaf sprinkled here and there across the cake. It was as beautifully rich looking as it was delicious. Ours was the fourth cake she has made this week. She was truly in her element. She loves baking and creating fun and beautiful cakes for her customers.
That is the same way I felt as a photographer in my 40’s. I LOVED creating and capturing those incredible fleeting moments in life-weddings, graduations, births, family portraits. It brought a moment of exhilarating pride whenever I could envision a beautiful outdoor backdrop that a customer could not imagine until they saw the finished image. Behind a camera I was in my element. People photography is not something I do anymore, but I love to freeze-frame the beauty of this amazing earth, changing seasons, rocks, hills, meadows, mountains, lakes, rivers, oceans, trees, sunsets, as well as manmade buildings, barns, old castles, etc.
So, my sister is double-nickel and I am pushing 60. It won’t be very many more birthdays before AARP will be knocking at my door. Until then, I will keep working, enjoying my grandchildren, and hopefully taking a trip or two with my husband to see some of the beauty this world has to offer in other states or countries where we don’t live.
Yes, enjoying a quiet moment to contemplate life, reminisce, and dream. What a lovely day this has been!
with my Dad. That is not possible, so I just marinate in the memories.
Two years before Dad died, which was last January, he got Covid 19. It robbed him of his ability to smell and taste everything except tomatoes for the rest of his life. He was not in the best of health for the last several years before his passing. Mom was good to care for him for most of those years. He was mostly homebound except for the mornings he would wake up and say he wanted to drive himself and Mom over to McDonald’s for a McGriddle. He could not really taste them, but said they felt good in his mouth. He was always a breakfast guy. I suppose I am like him in that way. Breakfast is my favorite meal of the day.
Anyway…
Since Dad was mostly homebound, so was Mom. She did not get to travel like she would have liked. She did not get to eat out or go shopping much. She was home with Dad. That is just how she was and how their marriage worked. He was home, so she was home. Now that Dad is gone, she can explore more opportunities to go places. She says “yes” a lot more now.
In the last year, Mom has eaten out a few more times than ever before. She has gone to lunch with friends. She goes to her sister’s house once a month for a scripture study meeting. She went to San Diego with my sister in the spring. She is in the process of getting her passport and is planning to go on a cruise with us this year. I can hardly wait to experience that with her! As sad as we are about Dad’s passing, we are equally excited to share some of Mom’s “first-time” experiences.
In the meantime, tonight, my husband and I, my sister, her husband, their daughter, and my brother are going to take mom to Longhorn Steakhouse for dinner for her first time. She is going to love the creamy cheesy smothered chicken breast, mashed potatoes and strawberry salad.
I am grateful for the gift we have been given of this time with Mom and opportunities to explore some of the experiences with her that this life has to offer.
We have survived most of the “firsts” of the first year of my dad’s passing. This was the first Christmas without him. It was definitely noticeable. And different. And a little empty. But, we survived and made the best of it. We are grateful Mom is still here and doing her best to figure out her new life without Dad. She is doing a great job of adjusting in her own very quiet way. We are grateful for her loving example.
One of our Christmas traditions is for the adults to exchange gifts in the following way. They bring a gift to the Christmas Day family gathering. This is not just any gift! It is a gift that they spend at least…at the very least…10 minutes shopping for on Christmas Eve Day! Haha! Actually, that is not a “rule” but for some of the last-minute gift givers, that is just how they roll. Others in the family usually take a bit more time thinking of just the perfect gift that they feel anyone would be happy to receive.
Over the years these gifts have ranged from pots and pans, to towels or blankets, or even simply a box of chocolates with maybe a $20 or $50-dollar bill attached to the top. Some years the gifts have been flashlights or batteries in a case (never can be too prepared) or even a bubbly desktop waterfall. We never assign a “theme” for the types of gifts to purchase. The only “rule” is that the gift needs to be wrapped in foil with no fancy bows on top.
Along with the tinfoil gift, the adults bring an amount of money that is placed in a non-see-through envelope. The amounts of money have ranged over the years from 20 dollars to 100 dollars. The usual amount is $50. When the family arrives on Christmas morning, one of the first things they do after removing their coats and hats is head for the envelopes to offload the money they are carrying around in their pocket or purse. They carefully place their tinfoil gift under the Christmas tree with the others. It is fun to see the silver tinfoil become a colorful reflection of the lights on the tree.
Everyone is all a buzz with comments of how good the egg bake smells and the young people have a look of impatience, hoping the prayer of thanks for the food is said quickly, so they can fill their plates with egg bake, English muffins, and fruit. Orange juice is most often the drink of choice. It is fun to have all 21 family members, adults and children, surrounding the several smaller tables pushed together to make one long table. The happy sound of eating and laughter warms my heart as I look around the table, taking in the sights and sounds of our yearly Christmas brunch.
Soon after, the dishes are cleared from the tables, which are pushed to the side of the room to make room for our circle of chairs. The gifts are pulled out from under the tree and handed out to the children whose smiles could not be brighter! It is a joyous occasion to watch as the children (teens included) open their gifts and the younger ones exclaim in delight at the new toys and games they have received. The teens were excited to see their tickets to the movie theater and a little money for popcorn, treats, and drinks, from Grandma and Grandpa. I thought they might go to the movies that afternoon, but they opted to stay and play games with us adults instead.
Fourteen adults and one highschooler participated in our tinfoil gift exchange this year. Paper was torn into 14 small pieces and each was numbered individually from 1 to 14 and placed in a small bowl. The gifts were placed in the center of the circle where we could eye the perfect one we hoped would still be available to choose when our number came up. This year my number was 6 which I picked from the bowl as my niece took it around the room from adult to adult so each could choose a number, which would dictate the order in which we could choose a gift from the pile. My husband picked number 9. We had a brief banter about which of us was really holding number 9 and which one was holding number 6. Mine was definitely number 6! *wink wink*
When it was my turn to choose an envelope and then a gift from the middle of the room, I chose a puffy envelope and an oblong gift, which rattled a little when I picked it up. Two of our granddaughters looked at each other and laughed as I carried it back to my chair. Looking at my granddaughters, I shook it gently and said it sounds like wooden pieces. They both looked at each other and laughed. Our oldest granddaughter is 23 and the other one who was laughing with her is her sister who is 17 and a senior in high school. She decided it was time to join the adult gift exchange this year since she is a senior.
Well, the only other gifts I remember seeing after I opened my gift was that there were a few gift cards to grocery stores…and, truly, I do not remember a single other gift! Mine was the best gift I have ever, ever EVER received! (OK, maybe not EVER, but it is definitely a favorite!) When I opened my gift, my granddaughters started to laugh out loud. It took me a minute to figure out what it was. And, when I figured it out, I couldn’t believe it! It was a BIDET attachment for the toilet. I was so excited! It might sound silly, but I have always wanted a Bidet and wondered why Americans are taking so long to implement such an amazing invention.
My husband installed the Bidet for me yesterday. My only question about it is…WHY did we not purchase one of these a LONG TIME AGO?! Our grandchildren thought they were being funny, but in the end it truly was one of the best gifts they could have gotten…at least for me! Well, I guess, I do have one more question: Where is the WARM water attachment? That will be the next item on our list of things to purchase in the near future. Bidets are nice, but I would guess, WARM water Bidets are even nicer.
Monday. Sitting here with my husband at the North Clinic Check-in, waiting for his appointment with the orthopedic surgeon to look at his left knee. Again. The appointment, which was scheduled in August, can now be canceled.
Three days ago, my husband stood up from the bed with the aid of his walker and nearly collapsed to the floor. The pain in his left knee was excruciating. Fear filled the room like fog filling the room from a fog machine at a rock concert. Not another infection! You see, once you have MRSA in your system, it lies dormant and can rear its ugly head at any time.
The medical assistant in black scrubs with a long french-braided ponytail cascading down the middle if her back checked my husband in. She happily asked, “Where’s the pain? When did it start? What meds are you on?” He answered each question. She stumbled over a couple of words, which she blamed on the fact she had just returned home last night after spending a month in France for “study abroad” so she was a little tired. That was not something I would have guessed about her. She seemed awake, happy, and her word stumbles were not noticeable. I wanted to talk about her experience in France, but she was quick at doing her job and the next thing I knew, she was headed out the door to let the doctor know his next patient was ready to be seen.
The doctor is easy to talk to and very personable, a bit unusual for most surgeons. Long story short, another surgery is in my husband’s future. In three weeks, he will have his 9th knee removal and/or replacement surgery.
Here we go again. Good thing he is full of determination. Sigh….
Smokey Sunset
Tuesday. Our conversation on the ride home last evening after Joe’s appointment was mostly about what he was feeling about another surgery and we started planning for an upcoming week-long stay that our 7-year-old grandson has with us prior to the surgery.
Our daughter said our grandson is very excited to spend the week with us rather than his other grandparents because he “gets too bored” when he stays with them. And, I thought they were the fun/interesting ones! Now, I am questioning our planned trip to the museum. Guess we better throw in an ice cream cone. 😉
After three years, of writing his annual Christmas letter to Santa, it finally happened….
On a cold winter afternoon, three days ago, there came a knock at our daughter and son-in-law’s front door. Our daughter opened the door, her eyes widening with wonder and a feeling of disbelief at the tall moving-box-sized box she saw sitting on the porch as the USPS driver backed out of their driveway and headed down the road. She walked around the box, straining to view the postal stamp at the top of the box to see who it was from. She noted the shipping price on the box and, again, her eyes widened. One hundred seventy-three dollars! Just for shipping! Then she noticed who it was from…OPERATION SANTA!
She and my son-in-law drug the box over the threshold through the front door and into the living room. Not knowing what to expect, she opened the box to see what was inside and if she needed to wrap anything. She could hardly believe her eyes when she saw how many wrapped gifts were inside. About that time, her son came running out of his room to see what all the sound of rustling paper was about.
Kneeling down to be closer to him, his mommy wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him close to her. “Remember when you sent that letter to Operation Santa a few weeks ago and I told you that your letter might not be one of the letters to get adopted?” He answered in the affirmative. She explained that someone in New York adopted his letter this year and purchased several gifts for him that he had asked for in his letter.
His could barely contain his excitement. Turning toward the box that was now lying on its side with wrapped gifts spilling out onto the floor, he raced over and picked up one of the gifts asking if he could open it. His Mommy let him open one gift. Then another one. And another one. Until all of the gifts were opened, except one. There were Mario and Paw Patrol toys that he had asked for, as well as a remote control boat. The last unopened gift was substantially larger than all of the other presents. Curiosity got the best of him and his mommy. She let him open that one last gift. As he tore more and more paper off of the box, it became clear. There it was! The first thing on his Christmas list to Santa! “The Big Dig Sandbox Digger Excavator Crane with 360 Degree Rotation with Base Great for Sand, Dirt and Snow, Steel Outdoor Play Toy in Yellow”
The tears streaming down my daughter’s face, as her sweet thankful son hugged her, were not for the fact he received all kinds of new toys for Christmas. Rather, they were heartfelt tears that reflected her feelings of gratitude for the generosity of a complete stranger in a state several thousand miles away, a stranger who chose to adopt the letter from a kind-hearted boy who hoped for toys that were not clothing or shoes or things like that. My daughter’s six-year-old son who still believes in Santa Claus experienced the joy this year of being on the receiving end of someone’s else’s sacrifice of time and money to bring a child (and his family) joy at Christmas time.
This will be part of my grandson’s Christmas memories that will be shared for the remainder of his life. What a beautiful memory to share!
My daughter, for the last three years (including this year) has adopted letters and sent gifts to children who have written to Operation Santa. She has felt the good feelings of being on the giving end of this great program for those three years. And, this year had the opportunity to see her son’s excitement of being on the receiving end of Operation Santa.
My husband and I also felt the effects of being on the receiving end of this this program. As our grandson shared his excitement with us about gifts he received from someone in New York, my heart swelled with gratitude for those people who so lovingly and willingly brought joy to the face of my grandson and his parents.
I want to be a part of Operation Santa! We are too late to adopt a name this year, but next year and every year after that, we will choose a letter from a child to adopt and send gifts of joy and happiness. I can’t wait! If you want to join us by adopting your own letter for a child, click here and mark your calendar for next year to participate in OPERATION SANTA!!
The phone call came before 7:30 a.m. last Wednesday. My mom was sobbing as she told me she thought my dad was having a stroke. He would not let her call 911 because he “would rather die than go to that hospital.” I said I would be right there. I kissed my husband goodbye and rushed out the door.
That five mile drive across town felt like an eternity. As I opened the door to my childhood home, a door I had opened thousands of times, there was a fearful feeling I cannot describe. Anticipation of the unknown… it was bad.
My mom, her eyes red and still moist with tears, met me at the door. She said she could not wake my dad. I looked his direction. It shook me to the core.
He was sitting in a chair next to the table. The left side of his face was drooping. His left arm and hand was resting next to his body. His right arm was resting on the table, and his fingers were scratching back and forth across an indentation in the table, which was something that had become a habit over the last few years, the scratching on the table.
The look of helplessness on my mom’s face as she walked over and gently shook his arm while repeating his name was unsettling, as was my dad’s effort to lift his eyebrows as high as he could, to open his eyes, yet his eyelids remained closed.
“This is serious,” I whispered desperately to my mother. “I’m calling 911!”
Those few minutes between the time I reached dispatch to the time I saw the flashing lights of the ambulance pull up in front of the house felt like an eternity.
Two EMTs entered the house. It was surreal watching one of them ask my dad questions and see my dad sit in that one position without moving or opening his eyes, except to scratch back and forth across the table. He looked like my dad. But, as the EMT lifted my dad’s eyelids, the eyes he exposed were not the same caring eyes I was used to seeing. They were blank. Void of warmth or emotion.
His eyes remained closed while more EMTs entered the house and helped move him from the chair to the stretcher, then out the front door and into the ambulance.
When my mom and I arrived at the ER room, my sister was already there. My dad was alert and talking with the doctor, who happens to be my first cousin.
Life is funny. One minute you are babysitting your cousin so your aunt and uncle can have a date night, and the next minute, that little cousin is all grown up and helping care for your ailing father.
My dad survived the stroke with very few deficits. He is in a rehabilitation center where he can receive PT to strengthen his muscles so he can come home soon. My mom is staying home without my dad for the first time ever for such an extended period of time. I am staying with my mom to help ease her concerns. My husband is home waiting for time to pass so we can be together again in this new phase of our lives as supportive caregivers to my parents for as long as they need us.
This is not my favorite new phase of life. However, I am so grateful for the extra time with my dad. ❤️
Doing the mundane Saturday morning chores: get gas, buy groceries, and pick up prescriptions.
Today is going to be cleaning day while the homemade dough for hamburger buns does its rising thing. Have you ever made homemade buns? It is super easy and delicious, plus no preservatives. Try this recipe on Pintrest here.
We stopped at my parents’ house to pick up my laptop that I left there last night after playing pinochle with them. What is it about walking through the front door of the home of your parents that feels so good? No matter how many times the walls have been painted or the furniture has been rearranged or the fireplace was added or removed, it feels to me like a place of comfort and safety. A place where I could just stay forever.
My favorite front door
My parents are in their eighties, which means their time on this earth is getting short. Feelings of guilt already creep in for the time I don’t spend with them. It is a challenge to find the balance between working full time, spending time with my husband, parents, adult children, and grandchildren, plus creative time, and working on personal growth. Not to mention cleaning and cooking.
Sigh….To be that twenty-something with the whole world ahead of me. 🙂
Well, I better get my 50-something-self moving. It’s time to get the Christmas tree and decorations up!
ChatterLei 