It was unsettling at first to change our Thanksgiving routine. No family dinner. Winter travel. Flying.
But I emailed off the dessert recipes to my daughters and, on Thanksgiving Day, got on a plane.
I saw my mom. She looked and felt good. (Why didn't I take a photo?) She's gained a couple pounds. I credit the array of salads available--jello with whipped cream, anyone? No? How about pasta salad with mayonnaise?) She was talkative and brighter--just as she was when I saw her six weeks ago. When my mom came to live with me in August of 2012, I was determined that she would live out her days with me (I figured we's be lucky if she lasted six months.) She spends a lot of her time reading (currently a racy Harlequin romance!) as opposed to the group activities, but she eats all her meals in the dining room and seems to enjoy the conversation and company. The realization for me here is that I could not be all things and everyone to my mom. I'm her daughter. One of her children. The population in Margaritaville was two most of the time. In Iowa there is an array of a dozen people who visit her. If you're one of them and reading this, you are among the people I am most thankful for this Thanksgiving. Bless you.
And I should mention that I did see my daughters anyway. We met at the nursing home on Saturday. Saturday night there was a restaurant dinner for 14 in my hometown with the daughters, my brother and his family. By then, I had a plate full of gratitude with no side of regret.
And I enjoyed the mini-road trip immensely.
|Mississippi River Sunrise|
|Indiana Dunes--if you look closely you can see Chicago in the distance.|
It'll be a long travel day, but by midnight tonight I should be asleep in my own bed.
Blessings on all your households.