Friday, October 18, 2013

C'est Le Weekend: Fog and Cold

The morning started at 10 p.m. last night already.
I've been up, it seems, forever.
Sounds in the night, and a restlessness that is squeezing the bejesus out of me.
 
Son#1 was returned to the warm fold of home, and then it was Son#2's turn for a sleep-over at his paternal grandparents'.
My mother-in-law let Son#2 phone home last night, the homesickness thick in his voice, poor bunny.
Son#2 and I had it so good together, just the 2 of us, this past week.
He needed it, and so did I.
I miss his strong voice and constant whistling in the house, not to mention his unfailing enthusiasm for everything - taking out the trash, grocery shopping, you name it, he's geared with a smile and ready to go.
No sullen moods, no sirreee.

It is terribly bone-gnawingly cold here this morning, and the outside world is dressed up in a shroud of fog.


Son#1 and #3 and I are home, ate breakfast, and now they're upstairs making even more of a mess of the already messy playroom.
The entire house is in a shambles.
Piles of laundry and paperwork.
Nothing in its place.
I will need to clean it this weekend, in earnest, in case I need to fly to South Africa within the next few days.
And I need to catch up on a backlog of work and studies as well.
Sigh.

My dad finally came home yesterday afternoon, by ambulance.
My mother and I decided that he's not going back for treatment (even if his calcium goes up again, or he needs blood).
It distresses him I think - he gets confused so much - thinking that everything and everyone is in on some conspiracy to harm him - even, to her great sadness, my mother.
At home, my dad is calm, even when his confusion starts.
He feels safe at home, and that's where he needs to be.
My mother says she feels like she's already lost him.
The husband told me that I'm already in the memory-phase.
My darling dad deserves a good, long life, not this crap.

Son#1 is going to the circus this afternoon, with his best friend.
He's sitting upstairs, playing on the child tablet talking to an electronic cat that repeats everything he says.
The things we do, even as children, to convince ourselves that we're really alive.
Now is just now.
Stay in the moment, Yo.


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