your nails are ripped and ragged from the ravages of cardboard and tape. hers are long and tough. she tries to file them down every day. at least she did before she started more forgetting. the language center is dissolving. non-existent words come out of her mouth and she knows it, is frustrated by the inability to make her point. you can be patient about that; you can respond to someone in pain. it’s when she climbs her high “you owe me” horse that your own frustration turns your language into expletives. there is no more patience left to deal with the controlling patterns of the self-involved manipulator you’ve spent your life distancing from.
I sit in the middle of packed and unpacked boxes, empty shelves. There’s only one chair that’s left unlayered, and that’s the one in front of the computer. I’m back from an overnight with my mom in her new place. The moving was hard on her; she’s disoriented, unsure of where she is or why she’s there. I do the best I can for her, and we find some things to laugh about. Mostly, she cries.
I try to make a list of all the things I need to do before I move, all those address changes for both of us…. I have to get my oil changed and brakes re-lined. Heh, you know — the car. Call the Salvation Army for pick-up. There are friends I will not have time to see before I leave. I keep chipping away at my hair. I do that when I’m stressed. I wonder how I’d look bald.
I will get through th1s.