Generally I’m not one of those people who chooses a “word” each year but this year a word seems to have chosen me. Patience. My mother is famous for calling patience a virtue, I’m calling bullshit on that. I’m going more with Aristotle’s point of view, patience is excruciating, but worth it.
So far this year, another hospital stay for Mom that looked as if it might be the last. But…Phoenix that she is, she’s actually back in rehab where she’s the bell of the ball as you know by now. Some interesting things have come out of this latest adventure, talk of nursing homes, better hydration, walking more or if you want to go home you need help. Wait for it…she’s in agreement on several of those points. Nursing home, not so much…she’s more a worker than a spender. The conversations were delicate, the consensus took a bit more than the usual minute but the outcome was worth it.
It has been bitter cold, snowy for a spell but mostly cold. My walking ritual was interrupted and the stir crazies set in much quicker than they ever have. I’m more a winter person than summer but this is excruciating.
In anticipation of what might have been, and her direct orders, I began poking around in boxes and dressers and cabinets and cubbies at Mom’s tiny apartment. Bring home the jewelry, bring home the coins, give so and so the whatever, make sure you grab the other thing. Patience, patience patience…which led me to thinking about my house and the interesting annual ritual they have in Sweden called “death cleaning”. Go through your home as if… Would you need to place undue burden on your loved ones (aka you know who) after you’re gone?
And so today begins the sorting and purging of papers and blah blah in my own home. It’s a whirlwind around this little place on Stowe Lane but…definitely worth it…
Patience: what doesn’t kill you.