Yesterday was a memorable day for us. Mom and I went for our first outdoor excursion from her assisted living facility. She has COPD and needs to have her oxygen 24-7 now so we had to take the air takes along. They can be rather cumbersome and torpedo like, so it was an experience for the both of us. As most of our treks go, we look at each other and say, “Whose idea was this?” We make it to the car, and I literally have to load her in along with the torpedoes of oxygen. She is small, but gravity has its ways along with a winter coat and all. I proceeded to drivers side of the car, get in, and say, “are you in there?” That is how she is, a wee person. Let me mention now, she also is a determined soul.
We arrived at a lovely diner, and yes, it was a little cumbersome getting her in and out of the car but we did it. We found a spot by the window and I helped getting her situated. She could not believe that she was out from the sterile room of her facility. She looked in awe around as a mere child would. I could not help but notice this revelation as to how the roles have turned around. I, taking care of an adult child of 92.
Small hands….Do any of us remember when our mothers or someone dressed us in snow suits and the sleeves were too long? We’d walk like the incredible hulk after our mothers bundled us up? This is how mother looked with her winter coat sleeves way too long as she was eating her carrot cake. I really noticed a mothers hands and how much I saw a lifetime of toil, compassion and aging after 92 years. I really took a hard look at them and realized those hands kneaded me through this life. Those hands patted me on the back to burp me. Those hands, held mine as I crossed the street to my first day of school. Those hands spanked me with love to discipline. Finally, those hands got me where I am today. With mother at 92 eating carrot cake in a fine diner, my hands are now kneading her. What a memory!