Oh, we are a resilient species -- say the swallows who are building their nest in the eaves of the Prairie House outside of Mt Horeb in Wisconsin. We, too, survived -- say the lupines in the prairie stretching down the hill, albeit their pointy peaks had been twisted by the whipping winds and straight line tornadoes that torpedoed through the Midwest last night.
And the three of us -- friends, with varying degrees of weather sensitivity! -- we survived as well, though the windows shook, shook in their frames and twice we went to the basement just in case they came crashing down on us under the brute force of the storm.
(When you could still look out the window, we watched it coming...)
And now, this morning, all is calm.
And still standing (if a little bent out of shape).
We were lucky.
It is our last morning together. My friends will be returning to their homes, their daily routines, their neighbors and the good people in their lives today. And I will be going home as well, to the farmette, to Ed, to the young families.
One last breakfast...
And a valiant effort to finish the puzzle.
We had to laugh: so close! We were maybe 20 pieces short of completing it and yet we had to stop. Because the clock was ticking. I had meetings and obligations. I needed to get home.
(So good to spend time with these two!)
* * *
In Madison again, I attend to my mother.
I have been scrambling to keep up with the real and perceived problems that appear to plague her right now. She is no longer able to control the swell of negative emotion within her, toward staff, toward pretty much anyone who tries to help her. This means that she cannot return to assisted living. (Indeed, she refused to go anywhere at all today, so she is stuck for now in Rehab.) Remarkably, it's not the physical barriers that keep her away, it's her mindset.
I worked on a transfer to a skilled nursing/hospice facility -- same building, different floor, more attention. I've moved my mother from independent living to rehab, from rehab to assisted living number one, from that to assisted living number two. I know what I have to do and I know it will be done imperfectly because without her cooperation, I cannot fully grasp what she would like me to bring to her new home.
I will say this much -- the new place for her is lovely, newly built, bright, larger even than her previous home. But without doubt she will not recognize the upgrade and I expect our calls and visits and emails (because she can still send emails!) will proceed in the way they have always proceeded -- with a focus on all that's not good in her life.
* * *
I had to leave my mother's place in the early afternoon, because it was grandkid pick up time.
Happy ones! How awesome is that!
We have a bit of a weird schedule because their dad has been away and their mom is juggling the three kids and her job demands (to say nothing of the fact that she, like me, has been coughing her way through the week, though she, unlike me, at least did not have lung deflation issues). To help things along, I picked up the two oldest kids and brought them home. Sandpiper, the youngest, had to stay home all day because Madison schools and preschools were closed due to weather damage.
In the later afternoon, I brought Snowdrop to the farmhouse for a short reading time, stopping on the way for ice cream...
... and finishing the evening with my dropping her off at the Young Shakespeare Players program, where she is cast as Gonzalo in their full production of the Tempest. We have begun line memorization during our car rides!
* * *
Evening. Ed is biking, I'm opening my eyes again to the farmette lands and the emergent flowers. I'll show you what's blooming tomorrow. For now, I am delighted to report that the flowers in the fields are still standing. They promise me a summer of color and growth. And incredible loveliness.
