You can stay up here if you want to," she said tonight,
"it's very nice here and I've enjoyed it but I've got to get home. I think I'll go back tomorrow. You know, I've got one kitty there I've got to take care of." Her voice was matter of fact and intimate.
    I laughed. I should explain something here. When I say I laugh (in a manner which can be construed as 'at her' and, truthfully, it usually isn't 'with her'), to which I often admit when telling about one of my mother's creative mental episodes, it is always joyous laughter. I love it when my mother takes me on an unexpected trip. Once she solicits my involvement, the trip usually shortens considerably, depending on how important it is to enjoy the ride or correct her, but my laughter, when she launches us, is always of the felicitously unexpected variety, and loaded with, well, joy. Yes. Joy.
    Anyway, I laughed. "Mom," I said, "you are home, for the time being. And both your kitties are here. So, you can relax and enjoy yourself."
    She looked startled. She scanned the corners of the room on cat reconnaissance. "But, I haven't seen them. I don't believe either of them is here."
    "They're still hiding out from us moving the furniture, Mom, but they're here. The Big Girl is underneath the couch, see?"
    "Oh. Yeaup. There she is. That means The Little Girl is alone, then."
    In sauntered The Little Girl, on cue. "No, she's right here."
    Mom looked surprised, almost offended. "Well, when did you bring them up!?!"
    "You and I brought them up Saturday, Mom."
    "Well, do you think they like it?"
    "Oh, yeah! We've been talking for three days about how much they love it up here."
    "Wait a minute. This is Sunday, isn't it?!? Because if it's Monday I've definitely got to get home tomorrow. You can stay here. That's no problem."
    "Mom, it's okay. You're where you're supposed to be. And you're not going anywhere anymore without me."
    She looked at me as though this was new information. Relief swept over her face. "Good," she said. "I don't think I want to live alone anymore."
    "Well good, because I don't want you to, so I'll stay with you."
    I was going to let it drop there but I was a touch discombobulated and I had to know: Did she remember all the serious talks we've had over the last three days about getting rid of the Mesa place and remodeling this to our specifications? I reminded her and asked her if she remembered.
    She thought. Hard. Searched. "Welllll, noooo, but," her voice brightened, "it sounds like a good idea. Let's consider that."
    Whew. That was close.
    Later, I muted the television during a spasm of commercials and told her that if she was still confused we could talk about where we are, where we came from, where we'll be tomorrow and why.
    No, she said, she'll be fine. She just needs to adjust.
    I trust her sense of this. I think she's right.

    No iron today. Her lips are beginning to look like a vampire's after a feeding. I took her off it this morning. She's had two Detrol today but this evening when I rubbed her legs [to my continued delight, she always acts as though me rubbing her legs is an entirely new concept and a great one, not a months' long habit in which we've indulged] I noticed that she was beginning to retain all the water I pushed on her today.
    I hardly overworked her! I did notice that we definitely need to get her eyes checked at the Veteran's Clinic. She had trouble seeing obvious dirt on the floor when she was sweeping. I am aware, too, that she is still compromised by this thin atmosphere. But we've had more than some spectacular days in a row so I'm not surprised that she dragged early.
    We didn't go anyplace today. We may make our first trip back to Mesa to partially close on Thursday. She's slowing down. So, as it turns out, am I. I still have loads more energy than she but I go to bed physically exhausted at night. It's a good feeling. And waking up here is like waking up in heaven. Mom has mentioned this, too. Of course, she's been up and down through the nights so her final wake-up every morning has been late. But Wednesday is a hair day and I think she'll be ready for a scheduled day, again.
    She's doing well. Our household is doing well. I'm doing well.
    thankyou
- posted by gail rae @ 22:25   email...this post