24 hours, plus

scenes from one morning to the next~
being very aware lately, more so than usual, of the beauty to be found in ordinary things

calming, meditative moments in the grinding and steeping
a comfortable satisfaction in homemade strawberry jam on buttery toast
the joy in hearing all about a new work of art
the hazy liquid dance of light on old plaster walls
the remarkable beauty of these flowers,
and hearing loud and clear as they tell stories of
Spring's imminent (and long awaited) arrival
the many sensations in enjoying a glass of wine out of the remaining
glass from a set of four gifted to me by my grandmother years ago

and again, that light
morning light now, instead of evening
casting a warm and promising glow to start the day



:::



today was an emotional one
a call to the nurses' station in the ICU to check in on mom
ventilator, feeding tube, etc, etc...
lightly restrained to keep from pulling at tubes in her sleep
waiting for answers
anxiety levels high, requesting some sedation

the pictures in my head, after the call
reflected my own fears more than anything else
visions of things amped up beyond what they actually were, no doubt
regardless, one thing was perfectly clear

I needed to see my mama
and she needed to see me

the fire department had a shortage
no one to cover shifts
trucks out of service
papa couldn't come home so
a dear friend stepped in
'bring her here, of course bring her here!'
and I did

nearly eight hours later I returned
decompressed a bit with dear friend
(who by the way handed me snacks for the drive
when I dropped Claire off.  complete with little post-it love notes.
really. this is someone you want on your side and I'm so lucky and
grateful to have her.)

visit with mom was a mixed bag
one I'm not sure I can put into words here at the moment

except to say that
our hearts got all tangled up together while I was there
I could feel it

the tubes, the machines.....
I could see their value, accept them
be okay with them
(and, despite how scary a lot of this sounds, by the time I left things were looking up a bit,
possibly in reaction to a new course of steroids that are hopefully targeting her specific condition,likely a hypersensitivity and/or eosinophilic pneumonia, more specifically)

it was seeing her frightened that got me
reading her sometimes illegible writing on the clipboard
her only way to communicate at most times
pleas for anti-anxiety medications,
saying she was afraid....
my heart broke a little then

yet somehow, in all of those words, the thing that stood out the most
the thing that hit me in the chest so hard that I felt almost as if
my own breath had left me for an instant...
were the words
"Clair"
"Claire"

plain as day
whether someone was asking her what her
granddaughter's name was or maybe she was
asking about Claire, or answering another question...
I don't know

but something about seeing her name in my mama's
foggy medicated handwriting
when no other names were written

I can't put a name to it
but it was like the two people who have my heart the most had
come together
on a sad old clipboard
on my mother's lap
in the ICU

and something about that
rocked my world in a big, strange way



*weekending with amanda