A red-letter day

Exercise with Sister L
January

I was all set to write one of my usual, carping little entries about this strange direction my life has taken, till I opened the mail. A big envelope from Mom's place -- about meds, or costs, or meetings or, or. or. But it wasn't.  This is what it contained:

If you look closely in the bottom right corner, you can see her name. This was done in an art class in September (the photograph doesn't do it justice), and it was chosen for a "Memories in the Making" art exhibit that will be shown at galleries and public spaces around town. There's a note that came with it, with the title of the painting, "Apples in the Fall," and:

I lived in southern Minnesota when I was growing up. I made pie with my mom. We picked the apples ourselves at an apple orchard. Our secret ingredient for the pie was cinnamon. 

*

Just now she called -- it's late for her, 7:15 -- and I told her about the painting. She didn't seem to remember it, but when I read her the note, she laughed.

She said her leg hurt, but earlier Maria had gotten her in the pool and she was thrilled -- and there were ladies there she'd done water aerobics with before and she was glad to see them.

I'll bring the painting and the note next time I go. I'm thinking I should get her to the "Artist's Tea and Reception" May 23 at the Lutheran Home, which is just a couple blocks from my house. She could stay overnight. But these are high hopes. We'll just have to see.

*

My blog turned 1 year old this week!