Sunday, February 20, 2005
So this is what it's really like to care intensely for an Ancient One.
I'm sure you noticed that I discovered last night that this is President's Day weekend. So this morning, early, I head out to collect Sunday (congratulate me that I know it is Sunday) papers; not so much with the idea of buying from ads but Mom loves a heavy-duty-with-ads Sunday paper. I just rifled through them. Although they contain a fair number of ads, nothing says "President's Day Sale". No ridiculous banners and extra inserts. So, I'm thinking now, hmmm...maybe this isn't President's Day weekend. Maybe it was last weekend. No, I'm sure last weekend was Valentine's Day weekend. Damn. Is tomorrow a holiday, should I expect mail tomorrow? So, I look for a calendar. Can't find one. All those wonderful erase board calendars I've got all over the place say "November", expect for one which says "honey" and "Ham in Car".
Last night, for no reason that was stressful, I wondered if we should institute Sunday Dinner or Wednesday Night at a Restaurant, or something like that so have some buoys in the sea of time. It is very easy to float aimlessly when you are taking care of someone for whom time is measured in basics: Sunlight or dark; cold or warm. I actually like living in this way of perceiving and using time but I have to admit, it's not the way the rest of the world keeps time. During the year of my mother's back injury I found myself, one weekend, asking someone in a very public place, "This upcoming week is Thanksgiving week, isn't it?" I keep track of the days' numbers and months' names this time of year because of taxes. And, I usually believe I am in the month that everyone else is in. It's around the ends and beginnings that I have a problem.
As far as Mom is concerned, she hasn't yet been in this century but she's been close. She remembers that it was in the late 90's that we bought this house, and she knows that was a ways back there in terms of time traveled. In terms of seasons, she is always aware of being in the holidays, whether she's mostly in or mostly out, because of TV. She doesn't mind being surprised by details like actual years, actual months, actual days of the week, although she finds it startling to be reminded of where everyone else sees her in time. She has the ability to anticipate ahead a couple of weeks, still.
Last night she and I "visited" in the living room for awhile before retiring. At one point, Mom said, "Your bed, back there, it's a double, right?"
"Well, yeah, it's a futon double, which is a normal full. Why?"
"Well, I was just thinking, when your folks come, they can sleep in your bed and you can sleep out here."
Hmmm. I chuckled. "Good idea, Mom," I said, "except that you're my 'folk', and you already have a bed and a bedroom, here."
She did a double take, stared at me. Then, quickly, turned it jokey. "Oh! I'm you're folk!"
Just to make sure her marbles had settled back in familiar places, I said, "I'm you're daughter, Gail, and I've been here for awhile. We're each other's folks." I wondered if she was going to ask about Dad. She didn't.
She looked at me like, "Why are you reminding me of that?!? I know!"
We were back in our original identities. I wondered who she thought I was but she appeared to have lost the moment so I didn't ask. Maybe the better question would be who she thought she was.
"Time, time, time, see what's become of me..." Thank you Paul Simon. I've thought about it a lot, I'm sure you can imagine. It finally comes down to the fact that I really love being mostly placed in this time world of my mother's with only occasional firm touch with the normal time world. I'm really savoring this opportunity, as I know it will probably be my last, just as I know I will probably emerge, after my mother's death, into the normal time world stunned and reeling. Oh well. Once I get my bearings I'll be even more Time Skillful in the normal time world; that's what I figure.
Later.
Last night, for no reason that was stressful, I wondered if we should institute Sunday Dinner or Wednesday Night at a Restaurant, or something like that so have some buoys in the sea of time. It is very easy to float aimlessly when you are taking care of someone for whom time is measured in basics: Sunlight or dark; cold or warm. I actually like living in this way of perceiving and using time but I have to admit, it's not the way the rest of the world keeps time. During the year of my mother's back injury I found myself, one weekend, asking someone in a very public place, "This upcoming week is Thanksgiving week, isn't it?" I keep track of the days' numbers and months' names this time of year because of taxes. And, I usually believe I am in the month that everyone else is in. It's around the ends and beginnings that I have a problem.
As far as Mom is concerned, she hasn't yet been in this century but she's been close. She remembers that it was in the late 90's that we bought this house, and she knows that was a ways back there in terms of time traveled. In terms of seasons, she is always aware of being in the holidays, whether she's mostly in or mostly out, because of TV. She doesn't mind being surprised by details like actual years, actual months, actual days of the week, although she finds it startling to be reminded of where everyone else sees her in time. She has the ability to anticipate ahead a couple of weeks, still.
Last night she and I "visited" in the living room for awhile before retiring. At one point, Mom said, "Your bed, back there, it's a double, right?"
"Well, yeah, it's a futon double, which is a normal full. Why?"
"Well, I was just thinking, when your folks come, they can sleep in your bed and you can sleep out here."
Hmmm. I chuckled. "Good idea, Mom," I said, "except that you're my 'folk', and you already have a bed and a bedroom, here."
She did a double take, stared at me. Then, quickly, turned it jokey. "Oh! I'm you're folk!"
Just to make sure her marbles had settled back in familiar places, I said, "I'm you're daughter, Gail, and I've been here for awhile. We're each other's folks." I wondered if she was going to ask about Dad. She didn't.
She looked at me like, "Why are you reminding me of that?!? I know!"
We were back in our original identities. I wondered who she thought I was but she appeared to have lost the moment so I didn't ask. Maybe the better question would be who she thought she was.
"Time, time, time, see what's become of me..." Thank you Paul Simon. I've thought about it a lot, I'm sure you can imagine. It finally comes down to the fact that I really love being mostly placed in this time world of my mother's with only occasional firm touch with the normal time world. I'm really savoring this opportunity, as I know it will probably be my last, just as I know I will probably emerge, after my mother's death, into the normal time world stunned and reeling. Oh well. Once I get my bearings I'll be even more Time Skillful in the normal time world; that's what I figure.
Later.
