Two weeks ago I flew my mother up to Seattle to live with her elder son. For the last 30 years Mom has lived in Sebastopol, it's where David & I grew up. In the month leading up to the move I visited Sebastopol (an hour & a half's drive North of Berkeley) every weekend and called Mom every day. She seemed to be doing OK, though time had come she ought not live on her own. Too frail, having confusions. And I was happy that David had asked her to come live with him (& wife Sarah) in Seattle. David even ran a countdown to her arrival on his skook blog. It was a little odd watching the countdown. The days leading up to the move did have a greater weight than the days since. Or so it seemed at first. The trip went fairly smoothly. No accidents, no missed connections. And it was nice seeing David & Sarah again (and, oh yeah, their housemate, Jason, with whom I had one brief but genial conversation). Sarah is a writer (check out her column at tuppenceworth) and now I find myself recipient of full emails in which Sarah talks about Mom and the household adjustment to her. It's not been easy, she says. Has rather been on the verge of emergency and she & D have discovered Mom needs virtually round-the-clock attendance. I've passed on ways I've found to cope with Mom's slow motion ways and inflexible opinions. Sarah says this has been helpful. I hope so. Though I know "helpful" does not mean anything has been fixed. Sarah's last letter includes a number of spiritual sayings/excerpts from writings that she has found help sustain her during the frustrations.
I did a load of whites today. Folding the laundry I discovered a couple pairs of Mom's underwear. She left them here the weekend we were transferring her to Seattle.