Sunday, January 31, 2010

The Corn is as High as an Elephant's Eye

Everett clears a path to the birdfeeders after the heavy snowfall.

"Oh what a beautiful morning
Oh what a beautiful day
I've got a beautiful feeling
Everything's going my way-ay ...

There's a bright golden haze on— "

Oops, sorry about that. It's just that the sun's shining brightly into my window and the sky is blue as can be, and I've slept in and don't have to go anywhere today. Life could only be more perfect if my sisters and girlfriends were all coming over for coffee this morning, and if Mom was still alive and I could talk to her on the phone. I may not have everything I'd like, but the sun's out, the sky's blue, and life is pretty damn good.

Actually a trip to Kelvington is in order, since we didn't go last weekend and so Grandma may not have had a family visit for more than a week. I never know who else has gone to see her so I always assume no one has, and I'd better get my ass up there. Emil wants to go too but as he still sounds a little stuffed up, I'm not sure he should. Grandma never catches colds, but other residents might.

Not sure I mentioned that last time I was at the nursing home it was 11:30 a.m. and Grandma had taken off her clothes and gone back to bed. This is so unheard of, for her, that even though she assured me she was feeling fine, I mentioned it to an aide. The aide had just returned to work after a holiday and said it seemed to her that Grandma was a little "down," when she got back.

"Sometimes they get like that when they get old; you know how it is," she told me.
"I don't know, actually," I said, "but I'm finding out."

I like to imagine what Mom would have been like if she'd lived to 93, like her mother. She would have been a lovely, sweet old lady, that's for sure. In May it will be five years since she died. Five years! Hard to believe; feels like yesterday I was rubbing her feet and being asked to fetch this or do that because she didn't have the energy. I took to kissing her goodbye before I left, every day, because I was afraid it might be the last, unless she was feeling so good everything seemed normal, in which case I'd fall back into my old ways and take her for granted and not kiss her. We're not a kissy, huggy family, or weren't, though I've become more outwardly affectionate in recent years. Back when Mom was dying, I sometimes wondered what it would be like after she'd been gone a few years; it was hard to picture my life without her in it.

Now I've gone and made myself cry. Can tears hurt my dirty keyboard? It's filthy. Maybe they'll clean it right up! Or maybe I can make a salty mudpie.