~ Am I missing the prairies? ~

8:46 a.m., Jan. 12, 2005
Wednesday

It’s snowing again, and Scott is gone to take the boys to the bus, or maybe all the way to school, as he sometimes does. I keep saying he is resting during his time here, but that isn’t really true. He has taken over my student transportation responsibilities, and does a considerable amount of shovelling. Those are time-consuming at the very least.

I haven’t been getting to sleep very easily over the past few days, and can only attribute it to the fact that I haven’t spent any time with Mom since last week. She’s feeling better than she has in a long time, though, so I’m not sure why I would be overly anxious right now. As a matter of fact, that heavy dark lump that rides around inside my chest when she’s unwell has disappeared since she took this upswing. What a relief that is, to feel normal again.

Mom’s sister, my Aunt Reta, is staying with her. They have been working on quilting squares and such, so Mom sits up in a chair in the living room most of the day, which is something she was unable to do for more than a few minutes before Christmas. Most days they have either friends stop in, or extended family, or one of my other sisters with their families, so I wait until there is a break to fit myself into their busy social calendar. Too much company at once, and for too long, tires Mom out and then she handles her pain less well. Dad gets tired too.

I sometimes find myself feeling resentful that I can’t spend as much time with my mother as I’d like to, though she says I can certainly stop in whenever I’d like. “It’s really only my family I care about being with right now,” she tells me. But I know they need their friends too. And I am not complaining about staying home more during the past week; I’ve gotten a few things accomplished around here, not least of which is a miniature cleaning frenzy to tidy up this place and restore some sense of visual order. I’ve got a nice work flow going, and managed some food prep -- salsa, granola, muffins, which are staples around here when I get them made.

Reta’s husband, my uncle Carl, flew in from Phoenix on Sunday. Emil is bound and determined he must also see Carl -- on Saturday we left the boys with Mom and Reta while we went to a mall in search of a certain piece of loungewear Mom wants, and Emil insisted on sitting next to Reta all afternoon and talking with her --so we are picking them up after school and driving over there for an hour or so.

Mom phones me every morning if I don’t call her first. She calls from the living room chair, needle and fabric in hand, and while we talk she carries on short bursts of conversation with Reta as well. They are having a wonderful visit, Mom says, working together on small quilting projects Mom is making for her friends and some that Reta is taking back with her to work on at home. “My friends have been so good to me since this happened, I want to give them something back.”

She finds herself surprisingly happy that Carl has come to visit. “We always -- Reta and I -- talk like he is nothing but a nuisance. We say we don’t need these men around, that we have a better time without them. We tease them, you know. But we are having a wonderful time, and I’m just so glad he’s here. I don’t know why ....”

It’s going to be a sad day when we take those two to the airport.