Tuesday mornings are always spent at my favorite cafe in town. I drink coffee and finish homework and people watch and talk to my favorite server, Ron.
Today a woman came in with her mother. Neither looked strikingly elderly–perhaps 50 and 70, respectively. The daughter took great care of her mothering, putting ice in her coffee, helping her inch the spoon full of oatmeal into her mouth, and aiding her to her walker. They conversed about simple things. But they were together. And despite the mother’s frailty, that is all that seemed to matter.
How difficult it must be to slowly deteriorate. To be so strong, and then to need assistance in something so simple as the use of a spoon. How hard it must be to experience it, as well as to watch it happen. But there is also such great strength it requires.
It seems to happen, though, and we adapt to life as it adapts us.
Also, I know I’ve been gone from this blog for a while. I’ve noticed, too. Rather than try to draft why I’ve been gone, I’m going to just pick up and keep going as if I’d never left. I hope you can keep up.