Squirrel highway

Mom's traded the beautiful view of the Birch tree for squirrels. Apparently the deck area just outside her sliding window has become, or has always been, a highway for furry rodents moving back and forth collecting nuts. There's one or two that stop for a moment between runs. Mom likes watching them. 

I recommended she get a Wii in her room. I thought the small motions from playing the game would help with her occupational therapy. She and Dad laughed and quickly dismissed that suggestion. "I'll go to Jen's to play that," she said. 

Dad's not feeling well. He didn't sleep well and just said "I don't feel well either." Mom asks what's wrong and then says, "Stay away from me if you are feeling sick." She's concerned about him and wants him to be well, but at the same time she's concerned about catching something. "Go take a nap," she says. Dad walks into the other room to eat his lunch. "Maybe the food will make me better," he says. 

Mom's sitting in the chair in her office while I type. She's a real chatter box. I can't keep up. She's talking about the struggle of responsibility versus the need to see others and accept their assistance. "I want to do things for myself but I also know what my stamina is. I know I can have a day where I'm active and feeling good and the next day I'm totally sapped," she says. "I'm also very aware of Dad's neck (pinched nerve from his ultra-fast golf swing) and wanting for him to be well, but I can't fix it. What I really want to do is be strong enough to help. At the same time though, I have to accept I can do what I can." 

I think that makes sense. My observations paint a picture of a loving couple doing the best they can a day at a time. Some days are easier than others but all told, I'm proud of my parents -- even though Dad keeps a messy fridge. The love they've received from their friends from church and school has been amazing. They're blessed to have great friends. I guess that whole you reap what you sow thing has worked in the love department. 

(I just realize that all this love and sappy typing might be turning me soft. I think I should get a tattoo to offset the sensitive stuff. Or maybe play hockey, chop down a tree, ride my Ducati (shoot! can't cuz it's broken) blow up some fireworks or I'll just shave my dog and go play basketball)

"I'm beginning to think that you're better off just not thinking," Mom says between bites of her Subway flatbread sandwich. "The old go with the flow."

That sounds good to me.