~ dashing with dandelion on evening walk~

Sunday, 10:56 a.m.

Bacon frying, pancake griddle heating up, late publisher Jack McClellan’s voice speaking out of the radio, dishes washed, kitchen floor swept; through the windows a cloudy sky patched with bright blue, trees waving, while in the office I sit with the coffeepot’s last cup of black brew. Must not forget to phone Dad, though I call there every day anyway, now.

Scott and I are thinking seriously about moving out to BC to be near my parents. Perhaps it is a kind of negative attitude, but I figure if Mom doesn’t get to live till she’s an old lady, then seeing her once or twice a year and talking to her on the phone are not going to be enough for me. I want to see more of her, as well as be there to help when she is feeling ill, has appointments, whatever. Dad will need the support too, and so will Joan, whom Mom and Dad will have to lean on because she does live nearby. I can’t take Mom's presence in my life, or Dad’s, for granted any longer. I’ve had a wakeup call.

There are considerations, of course, that can't be ignored. Scott has commitments here, has started farming with his parents and brother. Emil loves his school and will be upset if he has to leave it. Scott and I don’t like BC; we like life right where we are. The cost of living is high in southern BC, and so are rents. And so on and so forth. So it is not clear sailing, but we are going to cast about when we’re out there next week and decide whether we can do it or not.

***

12 noon

Well it was a nice peaceful morning. I had just answered the phone and was on it for only a few moments when Scott hollered in the door.

“I need help! Cattle on the road!”

Everett and I bolted out and ran around with Scott after nervous beasts, and I’ve been reminded once more that I’m not in as good shape as I ought to be. Can’t run very fast or very far. So much for all the brisk walking. Will have to take up jogging now.

Lately I’ve been insisting that Everett come walking with me. I have to slow my pace because he can’t keep abreast of me. My 11-year-old is in worse condition than I am; that has to be changed.

“You can’t even keep up with an old lady like me!” I tease him.
“You’re not old!” he insists.
“A lot older than you,” I say. “You should be able to run circles around me.”

Then he’s pissed off because he thinks I’m trying to make him feel bad. But he still picks dandelions and hands them to me with a flourish, as if I’m a fair damsel and he a gallant knight.

***

Now where was I. Mom:

“We don’t want all you kids uprooting your lives and moving out here just because of us, because of me. Especially if you and Scott don’t both really want to live here, or if you can’t make a go of it and support yourselves decently. That would be stressful for your dad — you know him, he’d fret — and that would stress me, and I have to focus on fighting this thing. So think it through, and make sure you really want to do it and can do it.”

I’d be saying the same thing to my kids if I were in Mom and Dad’s shoes. I wouldn’t want to be any trouble to them, cause them undue hardship, even if I really wanted them close by.

“Well Mom,” I said, "it is because of you. There’s no denying that. If this wasn’t happening, you couldn’t drag Scott or I out there to live. That’s a fact. But you’re my mother and you’ve been diagnosed with terminal cancer and it’s possible you won’t live another 20 years, so I want to be near you while I still can. I want my children to be near you while they still can be. ”

“But,” I added, “that is not to say the move would only be for the sake of you and Dad. There’s something in it for me too, you know. If it happens that you are only around for a couple years, do you think I would regret spending as much time with you as possible? I guarantee you I wouldn’t. But if I didn’t do it, given the opportunity ... well, that I might very well regret. So it’s for me too, it’s not just for you.”

She could understand that, but still had her reservations, so I kidded her. “With my luck, we’ll move out there and then you’ll live another 20 years in optimum health.”

She laughed. “That’s what I plan to do!”