roles reinventing themselves

For eight months this time, I worked at least two days a week and often three. Over the summer, we moved my parents to independent senior living. Now Mom and Dad are settling in, though always in motion. I am again in a season of no work, and yet there is plenty to do.

As you can see, Clover helps me and hugs me. Tim is very supportive. When I became pretty down over "losing" my quiet space at Windows, my dear man assured me he is grateful for whenever I work there, because I enjoy it and get to recover on the off days. Those are the big pluses. I think about applying elsewhere, and at some point I may do it, but I know the advantages I have are worthwhile.

Anyway, I am writing. In July I invested in an Ipad, which now I'm carrying with me. Waiting in doctors' offices I avoid the internet (hard to do at home) and spend time crafting. A difficult, joyful thing. Like fishing, really. You have to bait the hook and cast the line in the water. And then you wait. You adjust some, you fiddle, you putz, you're distracted by a voice from the opposite shore. But just hang out there long enough, ready, and at last comes a tiny nibble. A strike. A bunch of frustrating reelings-in and rebaiting. Then perhaps, likely after it's started raining, a fish or two.

Yesterday I raised my voice at my father. My dear fishing buddy, whose life involves joy--he owns a power chair that can carry him early mornings a mile from home to Armitage Park along the trout-laden McKenzie. His life often involves pain, too, and midday decisions to visit a doctor, who can't really change things for him, who makes confusing suggestions while his daughter tries to be there and interpret and remember and who sometimes has had enough of a day turning upside down for everyone, but who has no excuses for losing it.

My parents and I talked late yesterday, back in their apartment after I had yelled at Dad in the car and we'd tried to make sense of lots of things that they grasp only somewhat nowadays. In the end we simply held hands and said again I love you and planned to be together today for lunch, for which Tim joined us, along with his father who lives there, too. The menu offered a Catch of the Day, and most of us ordered it. I couldn't help it, since I thought of it first: I said, "Hey, we're all floundering!"

Next to me Dad was distracted with checking his phone. But later he looked over, smiled and piped, "We are floundering, indeed." The fish was delicious.