After a couple of weeks of queasy ill health, Mom was in fine fettle today—laughing, singing, playing the piano. At one point she told me that we could take turns dragging each other about the halls. “You can lie down and I’ll drag you up the hall. Then when I get tired, you can drag me.”
We played Scrabble with newly relaxed rules. Who cares if doz isn’t a word? It’s the effort that counts.
When I had to leave to go home and walk my dog, she eagerly offered to come with me and seemed genuinely distressed that I was leaving without her. I will admit to mixed feelings about this. One on hand, I kind of like the idea that she will actually miss me. On the other, it’s painful to see her disappointment and I really do not want to cause her any confusion or discomfort. This is where redirection comes in. Joyce walked by with her little stuffed animal Gus and Mom agreed to help her walk Gus.
She even grudgingly admitted to liking this painting.
When I told her that she had painted it and that lots of people liked it, she immediately went into denial mode. “Oh, they are just feeling sorry for an old lady.”
“How old are you, Mom?”
“Oh, 25.” And then she winked.
Here is Mom playing the piano.