Posted late on 3-25-19
Nice trip down to see mom tonight. She is still tired…very tired…but happy and generally pretty darn good. She ate well in front of me with my stepdad feeding her, then we hung out for a while. She isn’t saying a lot these days, but on reflection I really feel like I need to get over the “pause in the conversation blabbing to avoid awkwardness” thing and just giver her more time to formulate what she is trying to get across to me. I am guilty of that all the time, but it probably matters more for talking with her. Great to see mom, like always. 🙂
We were joined by a Sweet 17er named Ms. L tonight. She is in her mid-90s and is still an absolute hoot. Mom is even amused by her. 🙂 You may have heard her in previous videos as the one singing very loudly and proudly, sometimes the correct song and other times not. She told me tonight all about growing up tough and fighting off her brothers for the best food at the dinner table. She spoke of milking cows early, then off to school, then back home when the real work started.
Mrs. L is a self-professed Jay-hawker…and was one long before Wilt Chamberlain redefined the term. She sang the praises of churches, schools and communities long forgotten. She was a pupil at a school outside of a small town in which I used to live in a school building that technically still stands albeit with trees and critters living inside. I wondered as she talked if chalkboards are still bridging the gaps between collapsing walls and if hardwood grooves are still dug into what is left of the floor. But she dementia daydreams instead, pondering if Ms. Jones, her teacher all of her school years…and the same lady that taught everyone there…is well, at the tender age of about 130 years old. Is the old principal still grouchy as ever? This damsel seems oblivious to the struggle and instead daydreams is past days of glory and gazes heavenward if and when times are hard. She is a huge blessing to be around.
There is a state of blissful living that these ladies seem to enter and exit on a daily, weekly or longer basis. They find a happy place and live there to avoid the tension of not knowing or remembering. All things considered, if they could stay there more instead of less, life for the Sweet 17 would be better than bad. Too bad this happy place is as fleeting as the little silver field mouse that lives in her old classroom. Praying and hoping for better days ahead and eternally for these ladies.