On The Road Again

My alarm went off at 0500 this morning, and I was out of bed without the slightest bit of protest- such are the miraculous feats I’m capable of when there’s surfing involved. We were on the road before 0630, our bellies full of bread and cheese and our luggage stowed carefully in the back seat. Girly road trip, activate!

I’d checked out three different audio books from the library, but as it turned out we didn’t listen to any of them on the way down- just a cd mix on repeat (thanks Anna!) and a non-stop flow of words. We both missed my brother’s presence in the car- it was odd to make the trip without him. One of the topics we touched on was the Someday Home that Nathan and I like to design. The Someday Home has many fine amenities- including music and art studios, heated floors, an herb and vegetable garden, and a separate Mother-In-Law cottage for my mom to come stay in whenever she wants.

It took us about seven hours to get here- not bad, all things considered. Lunch with the girls and then shopping for a new rash guard (possibly there will be pictures… possibly) before we headed over to see my grandmother at her swank new assisted-living place. It’s not so bad, as far as these things go, but as we were kidnapping her for dinner we heard someone yelling, over and over, “Oh God, please help me! Oh God, please help me!” so I went into the room to investigate. It was a little old woman who calmed down when she saw me. I introduced myself, but she said she didn’t know her name. I asked if she wanted me to get someone for her, and she said she did- she wanted help, and clutched at her chest. I went back down to the front desk and told them, then returned to sit with her while she waited. I rubbed her arm for comfort, and as we talked I found her name written on her chair- Alma. The subject of family came up and I told her how many cousins my husband has, which made her laugh. Finally someone arrived to check on her, and I left. On my way out the orderly told me that she didn’t need any help, “That’s just her. She wants someone to be there with her all the time, and we just can’t do that.” I didn’t like her dismissive tone.

Later in the car I related the story to my mother, and she put her hand on my knee and said, “I can still come to stay in the mother-in-law cottage, right?”

Always.