My visit to Mom lasted almost as long as the Sonoran Desert’s Fairy Dusters bright orange- pink shimmered up there around her house. Sure it was an awfully long way to escort and assure her when she went for her eye surgery and follow up. But thanks to a good deal on airline tickets and some free days of a car rental, not to mention my mom looking so much stronger, there was much less to stress over.
There is something cathartic about weeding and watering my yard when I come home from a trip. I am sure my neighbors haven’t a clue as to my motivation. But it starts with walking my dog immediately upon my return. Since I was already moving, the idea of falling into the couch and becoming one with the universe was put aside. (And it was also that Matt was kicking me out since he chose THAT moment to sweep, mop and pick up the living room.) It wasn’t an hour after stepping out of the car, that I donned my scrubby jeans, and ran the derelict which passes for my mower. After dodging stones it kicked up, I am pleased that the job was finished before the tank’s remaining gas leaked out between the tank and the engine.
And now it is time to kick off my shoes. I am glad that I have long ago quit griping about chores that my now young men could have been doing while their mother and I were out of town. It is nice to have a clean living room courtesy of one son and to have been picked up from the airport, punctually, by another. The house is quiet save for the baseball game on TV at both ends of the house. Now if I only had a beer to go with the pretzels.
Truths, Half-truths, and Sea Stories 