This weekend, we caught a break.
We all needed it. My mom had another difficult week. The leg is healing well, but all that forced inactivity led to pneumonia. On Tuesday she stopped breathing and was rushed to ICU. She spent four days there, but is now out of ICU and in a “step-down” room, something between ICU and a regular room.
Lest you get too worried, here is my mom’s description of the events: “I kinda blacked out a little for a minute, and everyone was running around all crazy, trying to get me to breathe. I guess God spit me back out or something.” You must admit—it’s certainly a fresh take on a near-death experience.
She’s doing a little better now. The pneumonia seems to be on its way out, and her surgeon thinks she’s going to be strong enough to go directly to rehab, rather than a nursing facility first. (The final decision is still pending.)
So we got a small break in the clouds. And because I didn’t have to focus quite so much on There, I could actually spend some energy on Here, on home.
Sadly, the Rev had to work both days. So, Saturday morning I walked him to the train, then went to Dominick’s and bought myself two big bunches of flowers (pink spray carnations; burgundy alstromeria). The walk home was like some crazy advertisement for “Spring! The Musical!” It was the whole package—squirrels, people on bikes, strolling couples, crocuses poking up through the ground, soft breezes… I came home, arranged flowers, and opened up a bunch of windows. Then I squandered three hours on a silly craft project that still isn’t done. Really, it was sublime.
That night, dinner plans with friends got canceled, so we made dinner plans of our own. They never tell you how cool it can be to date your own husband, how nice it is to walk to dinner together on a spring evening. But it is.
Sunday, I cleaned. Yes, there is a definite symbolic aspect to removing reminders of the past three weeks. But it also just felt really good to clear out a bunch of crap—junk mail, old receipts, massed armies of dust bunnies—to get all of it into the trash and away.
All this cleaning is making it harder to turn down an idea I really want to make happen. I want to have a party. This winter has been such a grind for us, and for our friends. I want a hat party. The kind of party that says, “Yes, we got through all that garbage. We survived five months of bulky sweaters, salt-stained boots, and unflattering coats, and now we shall wear ridiculously oversized girly hats in candy colors.” The kind of party with jazz music, iced cakes and fizzy drinks.
Maybe not this month, and maybe not this year, but next year, definitely.
