This past year, in particular, I’ve noticed I’m beginning to grow up. How crazy is this? I’m over a half century old (not by much, but still) and I’m not grown up yet? It isn’t the adult part, I’ve been an adult since I was about 5. It is the maturing part I’m learning. So many aspects of me have become stronger and better. I still stumble and it hurts, I’m still a cynic in many spots, and I’m more at peace. This, to me, is the best part. 

As I look into a world of new ideas, I’m thankful for all of those around me who have assisted me on my route to find myself. I’m not done yet, but I believe I’m on the right path. Or at least a path leading to a place where I accept Kris. It is funny, those people who have helped me grow. Many of them are no longer huge parts of my life. Some seem to have moved away after adding to me. While I travel, other lovely persons have moved in. I reckon this is best. Static friendships are boring. Friendships need to be crystal and moving with hidden depths and shallows. This is knowledge from my new growth. Not being afraid for change to happen and letting it go as it will.  
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A friend sent me this picture. In Walla Walla, every May, there is a balloon festival. I've never gone to it, I've wanted to, but it has never happened to be on the list of things to do during that particular weekend. I liked this photo. It seemed so carefree and effortless to be above the world with the blue sky higher. Granted, I'd probably be a terrified mass of screaming like a girl girl. But, I can imagine! 

To set my mind free and relax in the quiet of sky. Hearing the sound of the gasses as they fill the balloon and nothing else. What an incredible feeling this must be! 

As much as I detest high places, I adore flying. I often envy turkey buzzards their incredible ability to soar what seems a million miles above the earth on thermals. I'd truly love to escape this earth for a while and fly away. Probably why I love the book 'Jonathan Livingston Seagull'! 

Unfortunately, you must come back down. If you are a bird, a balloon, or a human. Gravity gets us every time. As long as our landing is gentle, we can cope with the return. And contemplate flying off once more. 

Caught between the past and the present. Caught between selfish and service. Caught between reality and fiction. I have definitely felt squished these last weeks. The world I reside in when in Oregon and the world I am a part of in Alaska are a universe apart. I talk to Strider and feel less out of place! But, then, he gets having to drop a phone call at a moment's notice. He gets hurry up and wait experiences. Tonight, I have a peculiar pull. Little Bear is sick and even at 23, I wish I was there to take care of him. When that boy gets sick, he gets very very sick. High fevers and the works. I often walk in his room every hour or so to make sure he is drinking something. When he was in Cub Scouts he got dehydrated on a camp out. Oddly, he gets dehydrated more often. We (right or wrong) link those two things together. 

Mum is not much better. So, I need to be here. She is querulous (that word means exactly what it sounds like!!!) and sick. As one of our friends told me, she's going to go down fighting. I don't really like that. I'd rather she went peacefully, like my daddy. And even he was in a great deal of pain before. The oddest thing right now are her kidneys. They are losing their functions. Yet, mom does have three of them. So, they could operate and remove a bad one and attach the spare. Which would also be a God thing. Why would she need three? Well, when she is on the cusp of 75, she had to have them rearranged.. It could happen!

Except, I do wish I was a grown  up. I can't leave the house without her knowing where I am. Of course, I can't leave the house much anyway. She's too ill. Eventually, we'll get out north again. She may relax better out there. But, at the moment it is too cold. At 1 am it is 8 degrees. The days warm up, but not to the point I want to get mom outside in it.  
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I miss my kitchen and my books and I wonder what may change when I get back. I've learned quite a bit up here and would like to see if a real relationship is realistic. Mum lives in a fictional world, I want to touch reality in mine. Not the reality I'm in now, but a kinder one. I know it is here, in Alaska. I don't feel like an Outsider here and I belong. Yet......yet. What will be will be. 

Mum has said she is bored. She calls it 'watching paint dry.' Another friend suggested it was like watching grass grow. I think I prefer watching grass grow! It is a fascinating habitat for a bazillion creatures. But, paint. Watching paint dry could be interesting, if you wanted it to be. To see the changes in texture and color as the paint moves from wet to finished might be thought provoking. Yet, the person might have to be a painter to appreciate it. Mum is not a painter. 

Mum is a mover and a doer and a shaker in the world. She hates not being able to do and go and be. She loves visitors and phone calls because she can step outside of her sick world and enjoy what others bring her. She craves being a part of other people's lives and resents she cannot. She encourages the belief in her health and insists on finding out what is going on in the world around her.

In the house we are staying, the living room windows overlook the church. The church has a preschool. Mum is always rubbernecking to watch the kids and parents and lights next door. Not watching, craning her neck to see what is going on. I laugh and am very glad we grew up in the middle of nowhere. I am also glad she didn't get a police scanner until I'd been gone. Not because I might have been on it, but because I would have hated people I might know being hauled out at the dinner table for infractions and wrecks. I'd rather watch grass grow! 

Sometimes, when life seems to go south, a cup  of tea is a soothing choice. Granted, adding something chocolate helps often, but for the most part, the scent of heated herbs hits the spot. 

Mum has a lot of teas. Well, it isn't a surprise. She has a lot of EVERYTHING! Completely astounds me. Especially when she has to save teas from season to season, because those special holiday teas are not around except on a holiday. Partial boxes of Winter Spice are not on my agenda! A lot of partial boxes of stuff, unopened stuff, and boxes of things she had stored in plastic containers were tossed out yesterday. It is nasty and she will be so angry. We  used the food pantry rule of thumb. If it can't be put in the public pantry, it should not be in a home one either. Some of her plastic tupperware she has had for decades. And it stinks. Plastic does. I made the call, but it was necessary. So much food and goods were thrown away, it made me want to just CRY. 

Hoarding things is an illness. With the hoarding of foodstuffs, it can cause illness. Cake mixes should not be kept for a handspan of years. Nor should most sweets. Why someone needs boxes and boxes of candy canes, I have no idea. And they have been around for several years. She is going to be hurt and angry and may throw us all out. We haven't even gotten to her bedroom yet! 

​Tea, please? 

In one of my very favorite books, the main character tapes up a shoebox of things they might not be able to get their hands on in a while. In the box are instant coffee and chocolate bars. I was out at mom's house today and as I left, I felt like chocolate. I felt a dark craving for something decadent. We had unearthed the step stool and so I climbed up to look in a cupboard. 

She had kisses....dated 2009. There were little Cadbury Christmas balls dated 20something. And these Hershey bars. Dated 2013. I frowned and glared and decided it was Apocolypse Chocolate. Something I would never put in a time capsule, but would consider boxing up for a future need. 

I can totally see how my little sister is bursting into tears as she tosses away boxes and containers of foods outdated and past due. Mom will be angry, but it is the way it is. We both decided we'd let someone else do the rest. The kid will get yelled at totally for throwing stuff away. Mom will bitch about others, but she won't get super angry. Maybe. 

I HATE CLUTTER. And I detest food waste which has ended up as clutter. 

Sometimes things come up in a life that completely floor you. You know the thing exists, you have heard about it, and when you confront it, your feet go every which way and you tailspin. 

In the last weeks, I've met a woman. A really nice woman who is married to the son of one of my mom's best friends. A friend I miss constantly every time I am back in Alaska. Mom's friend never said anything to her daughter in law, Mom's never said anything, and while mom is still living, I'll not say anything to her. I may not after mom is gone. Yet, it poleaxes me. Blows me away, every time I wonder about it. Completely knocks me flat. 

Just what is the astounding thing I've learned? It is a small town thing. A small town thing that it appears not everyone knows about. This super kind woman was originally married to one of my least favorite dads.

I'd never actually met this woman before and when I did, my jaw dropped. Oh, not in real life, but after the woman left from visiting mom, I kept thinking, 'Oh, my God. How could YOU have stood that creature?' Obviously, the woman didn't stand the man long. She took her young son and somehow left. Yet, wow. Her courage amazed me. I'd like to meet her son. Mom says he is a very compassionate teacher. He most certainly did not get that compassion from his paternal side! 

Life certainly can toss some interesting gravel under the feet of unwary travelers. It isn't anything really important and it definitely would not change how I feel towards anyone. Yet, I wonder how this sweet lady managed his drinking and hitting. I wonder what her son felt as a small kid in that man's house. I know I was often terrified. I finally forgave that man, but I will never forget. 

Some experiences are too bizarre to exist in reality. And yet, they do! 

When necessary, any lap is an osasis. A place to be safe in and a place to look out on the world from a different point of view. Laps can be actual folded legs, they can be enfolding arms, or even found in the hands of a friend holding a face. Enjoy them while  you can! 

It is the day after Christmas and all through the house, echoes of the past are heard under the oxygen machine. OK, that didn't rhyme, but it is true. Mum had a busy day on the 25th and is resting today. For the most part. She's coffing a hollow coff, she has a headache, and her chest hurts. Her doctor told her she'd have symptoms like this. He said she has been through a lot and it will take time for her body to get back on track. I think her doctor is a fruitcake with too many candied cherries, but she loves him. Her hands are shaking constantly. She can't concentrate on projects she insists she needs to finish. Her eyes hurt. 

Her oldest grand got an afgahn mom finished. She made a scarf I might give to Strider. Bear, I am hoping to give a headband to. It will be comforting for them to have something mom made in these last days. Because, I do see her in those. It may be horrid of me to think this, but I do. Every day, she is a little weaker and a bit more tired. In spite of what she tries to portray. 

​I could be wrong. I am often wrong. Only time will tell for sure. 

Coming back to Alaska was a blessing. A hard blessing. Over the course of a month, mum was put in the hospital and brought back to the Peninsula again. She's very sick. She looks good, her color is mostly good, her stats are good, and she is eating everything. Yet, she often holds her head in pain, she is on full time oxygen, she is melting away, and her tumor marker has jumped like a class of kindergardeners on 100 day. 

It  has been a long time since my last post, but this is why. I've been a full time caregiver for mom. I stayed with her in the hospital and I am with her now. I don't know how long I'll stay. We are walking one day at a time. Doris and I are tight. What will be, will be.