This weekend I did not see my mom. And it felt great. Yesterday I returned a piece of broken furniture at FedEx (ours -- Wayfair -- say no more) and tried to get a lamp fixed (mom's) and I learned that the wonderful woman who repaired lamps has closed her shop. I am grateful for all of the lamps that she refurbished in the last year. And her niece's haunting cd that I purchased after listening to it waiting in line in the store.
Instead of fixing the lamp I asked my sister if she wanted to go to breakfast (she was at mom's). And we had a really nice time catching up and talking about some things that didn't involve mom. And then I bought groceries and slept on the sofa and it was great.
Today I attended the monthly writer's hangout where everybody is mostly much older than I am (how is this possible?) and the prompt was based on a woman's poem and was to start "I have a friend who...". The person who wrote the original poem apparently said that she had a friend who was 18 years old before she had undressed an orange in public.
That may be one of the best things I've heard in months.
One of the best dreams I've had in months involved Jimmy Carter who, as we know, is in hospice right now. I dreamed that I dropped in on his house in Plains, Georgia, and there was a houseful of friends and family tending to him. It was very casual -- a shoes-off sort of house with laundry to be folded strewn about and people puttering around making food. I slipped under the sheets with Jimmy Carter and comforted him, patting his skinny arm. The interior walls were paneled and lightly whitewashed. I kept asking if I'd come at a bad time and the people in the house seemed to think it was all pretty normal.
I hope you're doing ok in your journey, Jimmy Carter.
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