Sleepless in Fredericksburg

Why is that light on? Have I had dinner yet? Is today Christmas? Did you ever know your Dad?

It seems that Mom is all questions these days. Her Alzheimer’s is slow-growing. Is that even a way to describe it? We first noticed changes in her as Dad was dying ten years ago, though we attributed much of it to grief and stress. A year later, we realized she had changed, and the long journey began.

These days, she does little for herself. Nurses provide her meds and daily care. Her food is prepared and served at regular times. She has given up solitaire, church, even friends. I visit nearly every day, volunteer — exercise, anyone? — and keep her room organized and supplies updated. Is it enough? Probably not in her mind.

That means I am often waking at 3am wondering if she is ok. Is her bed dry? Is she bored? Will it upset her if we bring her to the house for the holidays? And truth be told, do I even want to?

Still, I am glad she knows me. I appreciate (most of the time) events with her like the party at the assisted living facility where she now lives. She has a “boyfriend” who sits at her dining table, though she forgets about him once he returns to his own room. Soon, she will struggle with knowing who I am. She will retreat into herself.

I wonder if I’ll start sleeping again.


Teal, in all its magical shades

I am about to head out for another relaxing week on Turks and Caicos. Our stay involves lots of reading, walking, eating, and sleeping. But mostly, I stare at the water.

There’s something about the shades of turquoise that calms me and helps me breathe differently. I do recognize how lucky I am to be able to travel here once a year. I gather my art supplies and books and spend the week putting myself back together.

My IG feed will turn teal this week. But I’ll be back soon with lots of new ideas for prints.



Ten Years (Well, Really More)

I really wish I hadn’t lost the first four+ years of my blogging.  When I started this  (as a running blog in 2002?)), I didn’t fully understand how I was recording a history of thoughts and feelings. But now I have at least ten years (not counting photos which somehow didn’t transfer in the early days.)

What do I know? That nothing stays the same. I have tried to remove the words “always” and “never” from my vocabulary. At 65, I’ve learned what I like about myself. And I’ve also come to terms with what I don’t. I recognize some early life events that made me who I am, and these days I forgive myself for those life mistakes that came as a result of those events.

I’m so glad I found a passion in teaching, writing, and printing. Perhaps I’ve left a small legacy in those, something that my grandchildren will enjoy learning about. These are, after all, the moments that make up a life.