The sting

Watching the St. Olaf Choir

Found Mom last night at Singalong. I asked her, in a whisper, how she was.

"Lonesome for you," she said.

It stung a little bit. I'd been away four days, unable to face it. Another little black mark in the book of regrets the Fates will confront me with when she's gone.

There are days I wish it was over, but when she's cogent like that, it reminds me she's in there somewhere, paying attention.

In her room I gave her a new pair of drugstore glasses to replace the whacked-out pair she had, then  walked her through a lovely, intricate Valentines card from C and Sister L that she'd received, and then we found on my iPad the film of them in Seattle:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mx8JrR0zCDg

A little St. Olaf Choir on YouTube and that was enough. No emergency toilet needs; no clinging when I left. A simple night. An hour and a half.