Let's do a series of 3 line paragraphs:
My mother ran out of energy before lunch on Saturday, so we made the trip up the stairs to their bedroom. I had the privilege of taking off her surgical sandal and of putting the fleece blanket right over her. I pulled it up to her chin and wrapped it around her feet as she asked. Sweet moments.
My father is suffering with a horrible cough. He also flaked out in bed instead of having lunch. Even though they have such fancy food normally, they were grateful for half a banana each, bread and home made jam, plus tea. I hope they liked the spinach and garlic soup I made later.
I finally fall asleep properly after dawn. When my mother knocked on the door and tried to wake me up it was like all those times she'd tried to wake me when I was 19 or so. I was so asleep, but could hear her and felt vaguely guilty for not moving. She said later she'd just been able to see my hair!
Even though I have children and have adored the hopeless task of trying to wake them, I can't quite imagine that my mother also feels this. Yet why else would she, who can barely walk up the stairs, go right to the top of the house to find me, just to see my head while I am semi-conscious and motionless?
I tried making a cheese thing out of yoghurt overnight. They were game to try this and scoffed the lot for breakfast, asking me exactly how I'd made it. We tried to make up a name to give it. We put lots of pepper and pink Himalayan salt on it. I wasn't expecting them to be so enthusiastic.
After I said my goodbyes on the doorstep my mother started to go to the cafe across the road, so I wound up walking her over the road. Then I sat at a table in the sun to reserve it for her. Then when she asked, I gave her a big smile, 'Yes, of course I'd like a cappucino with you!!!' So much for leaving.
We have a new family phrase: 'We have got to get there before the Gloria.' My father said this as they finally climbed into the car to go to church. I like being able to reach around and pull the seat belt out for my mother. She slots it in herself, but at least I have helped a bit.
Great...the 3 lines on the draft have morphed into harder to read 4 lines. I am cross.
ReplyDeleteI forgot to mention that when I said good bye to my father I just automatically said maasalema and he just said it back to me without blinking. He taught me my first words of Arabic years ago and he still has it.
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