Knots and News

 When the school year begins, I make my new resolutions.  A major one this year is; WRITE MORE. I like the idea of an audience for my writing so, here I am, back again. Writing more posts.

This morning, I went over to Mom's because I left my phone there overnight.  (I forgot it.) AND I set up her pill box on Saturday morning for the following week.

While I did that chore, she got dressed. She shoved her sneaker across the table to me when she came out.

Huh!? "I broke the shoelace," she sighed.

I am not the world's best knot tier. (Tie-er?) My first attempt didn't allow the lace to be pulled tight.

I reached way, way, way  back in my memory to "right over left, left over right" GSA knot tying days and managed by a miracle to make a sturdy, tight, square knot and we put "shoelaces" on her shopping list for Monday. 

Mom days are still full of card games and walks - although the walks are shorter now. Life goes on and it changes, too. So my family's news is next. 

  Our family - our son, his wife and the grandteen - has moved to France.  It's been three weeks. A new school year has meant - since preschool - pick-up rotation for Gramps and me. Grandteen would be in high school this year but... she's in France. We are not crossing the Atlantic to retrieve her. Her school day starts at 8 am and lasts until 5:30 pm.  They get a decent lunch break and I hear the food is excellent.  Also, classes are not held on Wednesday afternoons. Do I miss my son, my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter? That goes without saying so I won't.

I have lost 25+ pounds on a rather severe "diabetes reversal" eating plan.  I need new clothes. I miss bread

We have many, many sunflowers in our gardens, front and back. 

And we went on a cruise to ease the first two weeks of missing the family. 

 Mom is 99. Her eyesight fails. Her hearing is creative a lot of the time.  And her step can be unsteady. She has trouble naming the right child sometimes. BUT she always knows when she's speaking with one of her kids. The rest of the world is on their own.  I tell her this. "If you forget my name, just remember that I love you."

We worry about her. Deciding when to call in the cavalry is hard. She stills dresses and washes herself, gets her own breakfast and can heat up the homemade meals we stock her freezer with. All that could disappear with one fall, one wrong step. We take turns making dinners and eating with her. We nag her about eye drops. We get her to doctor's appointments and grocery shop with her. Some of us live hours away. We are all getting older but we all do what we can.

This has become my life. 

When I sat down, I thought that knotting that shoelace had some message in it.  I'm sure you can find meaning in it. Share your thoughts if you want.  To me, it was just the continuation of the flow of love from my mother to me and back again.  Thanks for reading.

 

 

Losing Things

This post was written 2 months ago. Things are still the same. I lost my purse today.  I had it when I left my Mom's house. And when we headed off to retrieve the grandteen from summer activities, that purse had disappeared.

Or, did I have it when I left my Mom's? I called her. My brother helped her look and, no purse.

Well we got back from grandteen retrieval and I searched again.  Every room on the first floor, every room on the second floor. I even searched the guest "apartment". Where the heck was that thing?

Back to Mom's. Nope not there.  

As I strapped myself in, in my Mom's driveway, I remembered that I shifted my purse to fasten my seatbelt earlier in the day. I had it hanging cross body.  So it had to be at home.

After another circuit of all the usual suspect places, I went upstairs to retrieve my credit card info to report the loss.

This is a necessary step when you lose a purse with a wallet and other essentials for life in these modern times.  But, I remembered that I HAD put a plastic bag in the plastic bag holder in the cellarway. Before I made a single phone call, I opened the cellar door. 

There was my purse - hanging from a hook with my aprons. 

Losing things is becoming a way of life for me. The worst thing is that I have no memory of how things get where I find them. According to a well-known organization that serves people who are a half century old or older,  having no memory of putting something where you find it is a warning sign of mental decline.

I am proud that I was able to retrace my steps. I never believed that my purse was truly lost. I remembered hanging it on a hook.  And I thank my lucky stars and Saint Anthony that I looked one last place before I called the credit card company.