sandwich

Isn't it the case, that this year's December 23rd is like the middle child, stuck in there, forgotten, as all the attention and fuss are dispensed on what came before and what follows?

Winter solstice and the first day of Hanukkah? That was yesterday and the day before! Christmas Eve and Christmas Day? They come tomorrow and the next day. The 23rd hangs in there -- not a holiday, not anything really. Just "the day after" and "the day before. "

That's why I love it so!

Since I am a Christmas person (by that, I mean I have always celebrated Christmas and continue to do so, sometimes against all odds: Ed, it's Christmas! Huh?) and look forward to both Eve and Day, the 23rd is when it all more or less comes together. You can hang back and appreciate all the beauty that is there before you, without feeling that you have to make any great fuss about it. You just take it in and let the smiles flow.

But when the 23rd falls on a Monday, there are challenges. Take today: a lovely December day of some sunshine and above normal temperatures.

We sit down to breakfast...






... and then I struggle with paperwork for my mom. I need some information and I need some signatures. From her. Witnessed and with the stamp of a notary.

First, a drive to her apartment to rifle through her papers and to pick up her mail. As always, it's a pretty drive!





Then I spend the bulk of the midday with her, trying to do everything today, because tomorrow and the next day the world of business shuts down.

Except it turns out that it's sort of shut down today as well. Sandwich days are popular targets for personal holidays. There is no notary to be found. The social worker does not pick up her phone. All is calm, all is quiet.

Ah well. There's always Thursday, the 26th!

For those tracking my mom's progress -- what can I say... There's the good stuff: she can do a lot more for herself today than she could a week ago, when she first entered the Rehab Nursing Care facility. But, her attitude remains stalled. Perhaps that's too generous. It's tottering toward a lower than low point.

I surely can empathize. I get to walk out of the Rehab Center, go for a forest walk, shop for mango (I ran out!), go home, light a candle and sip coffee on the couch next to Ed, who finds distracting things to share on the internet. The key thing is that I am in control of my day.

Of course, thirty years ago, when my mom was my age, she was in control of her day as well. Here's the reality that all of us face: if you want to live a long life, you're going to have to give up some of that control, especially as you near 100. My mom has been so lucky: she was that rare bird that even at 96, could live independently. The change to now a lesser state of physical capability is like a slap in her face and she is reacting strongly.

I leave her with her reading material -- all favorite stuff, the same stuff that she'd be reading were she home and I quietly walk out to attend to the rest of my day.

This is the perfect time for a walk in the near by nature conservancy. Owen Woods, where all is very peaceful, but for the squeal of a child on a stroll with parents, with a dog. A lovely afternoon for it, for sure!






I also do pick up my mango and another candle (Sugared Spruce! mmmm!) at the grocery store and I smile at the craziness of the shoppers and their full carts and expectations of grand meals in the days to come.

Unpack groceries, talk to Ed. We look at the holiday cards. His buddy sent one where he described the highs and lows for the year. I laughed at his notation of a low: one year closer to death! Sometimes, it's really good to keep your sense of humor strong and in good repair, even when everything else seems to fail you.


And then I'm out the door. And I switch my focus to the youngest of the young in our family. I'm off for a visit and dinner at my daughter's home.

Gaga! Try this cheese! It's so good!!






(Sparrow favors the crackers)


 



(Snowdrop practices sharing...)






Dinner!






My mom had purchased some music boxes for the kids before her medical emergency. I brought them over today. Sparrow feels the rhythm. Snowdrop joins in.






Christmas books, most of them saved from when my girls were young. Sparrow looks for any cats in the pictures.





Snowdrop had said earlier -- I love everything when it's just like this! It's a skill to be able to look past the muddy stuff and recognize magic. Kids have that skill. Grownups? We have to keep practicing.