The big picture

by JEV

Sister L, midweek:

It’s the end of our second full day and Mom has expanded in my mind into her former self, though a much slowed down version. Visits with her are like forgetting then finding your glasses. At first you can’t see her, just the infirmities, but then you begin to piece together all she can and does do. She puttered in the kitchen this evening, turned down the heat under my bubbling bolognese sauce, tore apart lettuce leaves for the salad and played a decent game of Scrabble. She set the table, carrying full glasses of water. I watched her like I used to watch my kindergartners, proud of her independence, but worried she’d trip and fall. “Maybe one at a time?” I couldn’t help but say as she froze & shook on a pivot turn. 

What I miss most when I visit her at Cranberry is Kitchen Life. It adds so much to life to be able to set your own table and tear your own lettuce with your own hands. Life seems so sterile without this ability, especially for Mom, who spent so much time in a kitchen it’s teeth-brushingly familiar. 

The sky is spectacular here (did you catch Venus & the moon?) and the water is icy cold, but we’ve been in the lake, even Mom, up to her thin, unsteady ankles. C just left with E and J to pick up E’s son, K, who arrives late tonight. Jon arrives tomorrow (Don’t tell him we’re planning cake).

Sister S and I are on constant, distracted duty, but not unpleasantly so, given the weather, quick swims, late evening walks and cake-donut-with-chocolate-icing highs we are on. The Meds must be administered like the Liturgy of the Hours— Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers and Compline. Did I miss any? This is what we constantly ask ourselves & each other, setting our phones or watches & then misplacing them as we steal off for naps, and missing the alarm, but never the meds, not a one. Between the 3 of us we have internalized our the Liturgy of the Meds.