Wide horizon
Clear blue sky
Miles of cornfield
Almost knee high
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois today
Open road leading the way
Past truck stop, Candle shop
Construction, Speed reduction
Gassing up, coffee cup
Music on, and we’re gone.
Ohio, Indiana, Illinois today
Open road leading the way
Cousins to greet us
With warm embraces
Memories to meet us
In long lost places
This Spring I joined the Walk Arlington 8-Week Walking Challenge in order to get myself into the habit of daily walking. Walking is great exercise and easy to do. There is no special equipment required, other than good walking shoes. Walking can be social or meditative. Walking can be almost anywhere, or anytime, too. When I’m in the habit, I enjoy it. Just like with daily writing. It’s the getting-there that is tough.
In December, I walked 27 out of 31 days, usually at 4:30 in the afternoon. The reason I did so well in December is because the mother of a family in our neighborhood experienced a medical tragedy and the family needed help with dog-walking, so I volunteered to help out along with my daughter. By January, the family was getting back into new routines, so they let their dedicated dog walkers go. Inertia set in during January, so here I am fighting my way back to a new routine.
As a kid, I ran and played daily. As a teenager, I played sports and stayed active. As a young adult I ran and biked a lot. In middle age I took on lap-swimming, and I even had a personal trainer in preparation for knee surgery, along with physical therapists afterwards. Now I garden constantly. So I’m not exactly a lifelong slug, but also I am getting to that “use it or lose it” age, so I need to step up and create some healthy habits to carry me into the rest of my years, and keep my blood sugar in check. I need to do this for me.
Life Lesson: Create healthy habits to carry you through life. Do it for yourself!
Yesterday afternoon I spent an hour or so sitting with my mom, in her bright and cheery room at Yoder House, playing favorite hymn collections on CD. She mostly dozed, but woke to share non-sequiturs from time to time. This was our first unsupervised, non-distanced visit in about fourteen months. We are both fully vaccinated.
“Are you done cleaning the room?” she asked me, after I’d wheeled her into her bedroom from the common area where I’d greeted her.
“It’s all ready for you,” I responded, side-stepping the question as I opened the blinds of both windows, and cracked the window facing Park Woods for a bit of fresh, cool air.
On my prior two visits in February, one with my brother Donald, we both got smiles and what seemed to be recognition that we are family. Those were scheduled visits, so it’s possible that the staff talked us up beforehand.
This visit was more serendipitous, in that the window for drop-ins had just closed for two weeks the day prior because of a couple of positive Covid tests. My special permission visit fit the loophole for “compassionate care”.
“Thanks for your communication,” the email from the VP of Supported Living read. “You understand our dilemma fully. If you would still like to come today I will let the house know you have been approved for a compassionate care visit with Doris. Just let me know.”
I never make Mom guess who I am. Why do that to anyone with Dementia?! But I take every opportunity to tell her who I am, and to reminisce a bit about others in the family, especially her family of origin, because you never know when something will click.
Yesterday was not one of those days. Maybe next time.
Rain has kept us mostly inside today. So far it's a gentle Spring rain, the kind that doesn't cause landscape erosion or flood basements. We are finding our own fun today.
I've been transferring my herbs into larger pots. I'm growing Basil, Cilantro, Chives, Flat Leaf Parsley, Oregano, and Thyme. This year I started them all from seed, which I've never done before with herbs. Only tomatoes. So far, so good. But what I always forget is that as my seedlings are ready for bigger pots, I begin to run out of tray space for them. Our front porch window sills accommodate four ten inch by two feet or so of rectangular trays, but after that I'm negotiating with Brian's bike gear for additional real estate.
The kids and their grandma have been watching It's the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown, playing old favorites on the Wii, and now it's time for UNO Attack! All the while, Grandma regales them with stories from their childhood, and stories about their their cousins down in Austin or their late Grandpa and all the ridiculous situations that have occurred over the years, each story growing in hilarity with the retelling.
Grandma is the best story teller, too. She knows just which stories are right for every situation, and which parts to highlight. The gut-splitting laughter is so welcome for all of them. For me, too.
Togetherness, again! After fifteen months.
Forty minutes or so after leaving the highway construction behind us, we arrived at Turtle Pond, in Sky Meadows State Park, and turned right to follow the lane back to the horse barn. Four pick-up trucks with long, luminescent trailers were lined up diagonally just beyond the car park lot. A couple of riders in boots and breeches were saddling up their steeds as we walked by to consult the posted map and choose an easy path for ourselves.
Moments later we were happily strolling along a wide, mown trail adjacent to a running brook, water glistening in the early spring sunshine. Birds cooed and called out to each other, a gentle breeze cooled us, and green buds danced all around us. Relaxing and joyful all at once, we soaked it all in and breathed it out.
I noticed that Grandma was choosing her steps carefully, not entirely confident of her ability to avoid falling on the rock juts here and there. I gave myself a mental kick for not thinking to bring along a walking stick - we have plenty - for her. After brief stops at a wooden bridge and a gigantic wooden bench that looked as though it was meant for Paul Bunyan, we retraced our steps back along the same brook, grateful for another great day outside together.
This afternoon, Will was only too happy to double his usual 64 balls at the driving range. Meanwhile the rest of the family strolled out to the tip of Hains Point and back, enjoying the blossoms along the channel that passes Fort McNair and leads to the Wharf. Molly had Grandma all to herself, while Brian and I dallied for the usual photo ops, water birds, and kites.
It just so happens that the East Potomac driving range faces the incoming and outgoing flight paths of National Airport. Ever since Will was 6 or 7, he has loved going to Gravelly Point to watch the airplanes come and go from directly underneath them. Now that he’s a teen golfer, he has another great vantage point, one that allows him to ID the plane’s colors and symbols, as well.
Today we managed to provide cherry blossoms in the sunshine for Grandma Kathie, solo grandma time for Molly, and plane-gazing plus golf ball blasting for Will. That’s a win-win-win!
It's 7:00pm and I'm ready for bed. I almost fell asleep on the sofa, Sunday laundry still not folded. (Doesn't matter. It's Spring Break!)
At 7:20pm I'm in my pajamas, in case I fall asleep on the sofa, Sunday laundry still in baskets. (Doesn't matter. It's Spring Break!)
Grandma Kathie has arrived. She and Will are halfway through their Madagascar marathon, a longstanding tradition. Between them they can voice all of the characters. The rest of us are reading, writing, or listening to music in other parts of the house. We're giving them their special time together. Their ritual celebration of togetherness.
Tomorrow we head out to see Grandma K's old DC haunts, and to show her what's new since her last visit. The Wharf, for one. The caged-in Capitol, if she's interested. (I'm really not.) Maybe we'll go see the cherry blossoms in front of Nationals Park and try the trail along the Anacostia.
Tomorrow is full of possibility. But this evening I think I will go fall asleep on the sofa, in my pajamas. Or maybe fold the laundry.
