The Way of Life

Mom has now been living here with us for a little over seven months. She has adopted my little dog, Sofie, and calls Oreo "My Tuxedo Cat," and I've long lost count of how many puzzles have graced her dining room table. We've settled into somewhat of a routine, at least as far as her medication and newspaper are concerned. I set out the pills each morning and evening, and bring the morning paper inside after the girls get on the bus. Mom spends her days reading the newspaper, taking naps, working jigsaw puzzles, and keeping an eye on my "garden." Sometimes she washes dishes or folds laundry for me. Rachel takes her out for doctor appointments, blood draws, haircuts, and to visit my brother, and Priscilla comes to visit as often as she is able.

Mom is still not impressed with my dinner routine and often worries over whether or James is going to get any supper. I've not seen him go hungry yet, and am quite certain he would not starve to death even if I didn't feed him for several days. (Neither would I.) Though she denies it, I'm still not convinced she isn't concerned over her own growling stomach as she has been known to eat little more than cereal and a yogurt until dinner time. If supper times rolls around and I don't appear to be cooking, she'll say something like, "Well, I don't know what's going on here..." and then insist she isn't really very hungry.

I'm still adjusting my thinking, trying to get used to the fact that my mom is no longer who she used to be. In many aspects she is still the same, but reaching that part of her is becoming more of a challenge. She no longer follows conversations as she once did, partly because her hearing is so poor and partly because she forgets what we were talking about. If I am honest, I have to say that I really miss my mom and the times we used to spend together. I never imagined getting old was like this.