It's amazing how quickly life can change.
On January 6, my mom had retinal detachment surgery. This was her seventh surgery of this kind, five having been done on her right eye, which was eventually lost completely to blindness. This surgery was successful, but at some point, shortly after the surgery, she told us that everything was dark, that this time was different from all of the other recoveries from this kind of surgery that she's been through, that something was not right. Her gut feeling was right: on the back of her eye, her retina, a blood clot had formed, blew, and has rendered her almost completely blind. She can only see a little bit of periphery, just around the edges of her retina that was not effected by the blood clot.
As a result, The Kid and I are moving in. It's not a hardship to do this, but it is an enormous change. I've been busy getting ready to move, cleaning out spaces in the house to fit my stuff, cleaning out my house to hopefully free myself from the five years of crap I've accumulated in my house. The Kid is having a harder time, struggling with the rules of my home being imposed in the usual lap of luxury that is, by definition, the way a grandmother's home is run.
So, I don't feel like writing much lately. Go figure.
I have, however, had a blast looking through my old stuff, my mom's stuff, my family's stuff. And so, in attempt to get me back to writing more often, as it is a kind of therapuetic thing for me, I want to show you all the stuff I've been finding... It's great fun.
First up?
A Postcard.
I picked this postcard up in a bar in Dublin in 1996. I decided to make this quote my mantra for all of the things I chose to do that year: break up with my boyfriend of 3 years, finish of that second bottle of wine, make out with that British boy at that party in Wales, travel throughout Europe, drink it in, live deep, suck marrow, carpe diem.
12 years in, I not only don't regret a thing, I'm incredibly grateful that I did have a big, wide open life. Because now, I have a small life. Home and hearth, taking care of family. It's what I do now. And like that Italy/Holland poem, it's not a bad place to be, "it's just a different place." I'm glad I've had it both ways.
7 comments:
Welcome back to the blogosphere. I have to agree wholeheartedly with Mark Twain and even though I didn't know he's the one that said it, I've been chanting that mantra a long time now.
You have such a big heart to move back home.I'm sad to hear of your mom's health and she is in my thoughts.
I am continuously amazed by you.
What they said. :)
I have loved that quote for a very long time as well. Unfortunately I rarely apply it to my life. *sigh*
I'm so sorry about your mother. It must be really hard on all of you. You must be the daughter every mother wishes they had, but even still, it can't be easy. I'll be sending you all good thoughts.
oh huney, my heart broke a little with your last message to me a few days back. I am feeling for you, the Kid and your mom. You guys have had more than your share of challenges and to add one more..... You are an amazing daughter and mother. Don't have any wise words except that in your next life, you have much coming to you.
dude, i send more love and good energy to you and mom and the kid. love you!
jk
So sorry to hear about your Mom. I'd be happy to help you move or help out if I can. We have a truck. Send me an e-mail if I can do anything to help.
Sending you good thoughts.
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