My mother hasn't lost her sense of humor.

She dithers at the lunch table, the family going around her in eddies of movement.

Oh, I have to get out of here, she says, the familiar mealtime refrain.

What do you want, Mama? I ask her.

She turns, gives me an intense sparkling look -

I want SEX!

We all break into laughter, and she looks smug.

I thought you'd like that! she says.

My mother has discovered, much to her surprise, that she's not dead yet.

Upon realizing that a)she's still alive, and b)life has continued to go on,

she has found a pressing need to re-involve herself in life.

Family came to visit - her brother and his wife, her son and his family -

and she was delighted to reconnect, to love, to experience.

What are you saying over there? she wants to know. Let me come where I can listen.

Don't let me sleep so long, she tells me. Wake me up in a little while so I don't sleep so long.

Feeling the urgency of participation, she wanders, gets up and has to sit down again quickly, as her knees buckle.

We have to really stay on our toes, to get to her before she hurts herself.

Turns out that this is the heart-breaking part of watching her die.

Summer vacation

I have a mountain of laundry left to do.
A whole mountain range, in fact - lights, darks, handwash, blankets, sheets -
it rivals the Cascade range in size and scope.
I have to get it done before I can pack up a box for my daughter
so we can send it ahead to her dad's house for summer vacation.
I was supposed to get the car in for an oil change before we drive up to Seattle
but the garage is booked - can it wait till after the trip? I'll have to check the oil.
I had a list - thought I did - maybe I need to make a new one?
Dinner with Julia- a coaching with Richard - a lesson for Josh - Annie is going to stay overnight
before we leave, so we can get an early start.
What have I forgotten? Well, I don't know -
I forgot.

Bake

I went on a baking binge while my brother and his family were here.

It's always good to have an excuse to bake, so I did.

Saturday I baked a New Starlight cake with rum penuche frosting

and hazelnuts between the layers.

Sunday we held an impromptu birthday party for my niece

with a Black Midnight layer cake, with chocolate buttercream fudge frosting,

chocolate chips, and those little chocolate sprinkles they call Jimmies on the east coast.

Gramma slept through the party and could not be roused,

and she felt so bad on Monday morning that she had missed it

we did the whole thing again on Monday evening

this time with an Angelfood cake with warm chocolate pudding and whipped cream.

We know how to be bad in my family.

Thank heaven for the old Betty Crocker and Better Homes cookbooks.

In between and around cake we had strawberry shortcake with whipped cream

chocolate chip cookies

blackberry cobbler with more whipped cream

and finally, for my oldest brother's birthday the following Thursday,

a chocolate Devil's Food cake with chocolate cream cheese frosting,

toasted walnuts, and carmel ice cream. 

I would say that I'm done baking now

but it's strawberry season and you can't put up strawberries

without making a shortcake

or waffles

or pie.

What's a girl like me to do?

Insomnia

4:00 a.m.
Can’t sleep.
Hungry? Yes, but don’t feel
Like getting up.
Uncomfortable, achey,
What is it about 4:00 a.m., anyway?

--------
Grief makes you tired.
It weighs you down,
Saps your energy
Dulls your mind.

My mother leans on me

"Say, what's my name?"

she asks.

"Sharon Lucille Johnson Hackett," I tell her.

"Oh!" she says, "That's so sweet! I thought I'd lost you!"

My mother hears my voice, smiles sweetly.

Good morning, Mama, I say.

She looks at me and says -

If I wake up dead, will they charge me with murder?

My mother lies in her bed, choking and coughing. 

She has been hallucinating for about three days now. 

She never really sleeps, talking non-stop through the night hours, 

and never really wakes up during the day.

She eats with her eyes closed.

She falls back to sleep on her way back from the bathroom, 

her legs folding under her and her eyes closed.

My father has had no sleep. He is near a breaking point, from what I can see.

I don't know what to do to help him. 

He has prescriptions for three different medications to help her sleep - everything from Valium to an anti-psychotic drug - and he's afraid to give them to her because of potential side-effects.

I make him dinner when I get home from work, do the dishes, get my mother to and from the table, put her back to bed, send him for a walk, take her to the bathroom. 

Now he's trying to get to bed himself, and she's coughing and choking, it's been about ten or fifteen minutes now. She doesn't seem to be able to clear her throat of saliva, or mucus, or whatever is making her cough. 

He had been trying to get to bed while she was quietly sleeping, to see if he could sleep, but she has been coughing now until she's restless, talking again.

I don't know how to help them.

Field Trip

I went on my daughter's field trip. 

Her class spent three days at science camp last week.

I drove three hours up the coast to join them for one day,

and we spent five hours that afternoon doing "field study". 

First cooperation games - then sculpting a map of Oregon on the beach - then what felt like a two mile walk down the beach to the tide pools to look for critters (Mom, my feet hurt. Mom, my legs are tired. Mom, I am soooo tired. Mom, I don't want to walk anymore. Mom, I'm tired of this field trip. Grrr.) followed by a hike straight up a forest-covered dune and down the other side. Really, I mean straight up. 

Just past the place where Anna stepped on a bee's nest and the bees swarmed out looking for the culprit, the trail went straight up. We climbed up, using tree roots for ladder rungs. Halfway up, Bella (in front of me) says to Anna (behind me) "Hey Anna! I'm going to fart!"

And then I drove the three hours home.