Sunday used to be one of two days I visited mom. Thursdays were appointment days. I would leave work early and take her to get her hair done, to doctors appointments and to the store. This was after she quit driving. After I stopped working I started going mid-week three to four times. Weekends belong to me and Ben.
She tells me frequently how much she dislikes Sundays, how lonely and long they are. And I often feel guilt that I'm not there. I'm not sure how it's different than any other day, but it is. I used to feel the same way on Sundays before I married Ben.
Today Ben was working on a bid and I decided to go over, even though I'll be there tomorrow to take her to an appointment. We watched the Mariners and for a change they won. Watching the M's was always something we shared, but then the Mariners started losing and she started watching less and losing interest. But today that spark was back.
We talked about books. I told her I read a book I didn't like because of poor writing and she was animated again. It was fun to see her talk about reading. She said, "Now, all I read is trash. It's just escape reading for the story." I empathized.
I set up her fan because her apartment gets stuffy and the a.c. blows on her. Ben will see what he can do to fix that.
I cleaned the counter, set out her vitamins, picked up a bit. And even did some stretching on her floor.
It was one of those days I found joy in caring for her, being with her, talking to her. I thought how lucky I am that she is still here, so viable, and so present. How many people have a 101-year-old in their life who can still contribute? Some people, but not many.