It's the little things

The feet that won't stay put

Yet another Sunday morning with Mom. I figured that today she's been here almost three and a half years. Not forever, I guess, but sometimes it feels that way.

For most of that time, I and the aides have been fighting a battle to keep her feet on the platforms of her wheelchair. Today I stopped to put them on at least three times, and every time, within a few steps, she was dragging them on the floor again, making it hard to push. Sometimes she even pushes back, wanting to go a different direction, but never sure where.

After church we went to the Bistro, got some cookies, and I even ordered a scrambler, and she leans over just as we're settling in, "I have to go to the bathroom really bad." I left the table set and buzzed her back upstairs. She'd already done it in her pants by the time we'd reached the toilet, and I called in reinforcements.

We returned to the Bistro, finished our snacks, and I brought her back upstairs. She was, I think, just as glad to see me go as I was to leave.

The balm of the harbor