I'm alone in the house today. First time in a really long time. My parents are safely back in Houston. Mama has just piled the kiddos into the car so they can all head off to their day. And I'm in an empty house.
Well, the cats are here somewhere. But they are tired of me.
I'm exhilarated and a little nervous: it obviously means I'm getting better but, after, 4 weeks of near immobility, independence is a little daunting. I mean, I just dropped something on the floor--a bottle to be recycled--and it's going to stay there until someone else picks it up; yesterday, that happened to my breakfast bar! (We can't find our metal trash-picker-upper, which would be enormously useful now). I can't bend to reach into the fridge so I've got my water and snacks all laid out for the day. I carry my cellphone in my pocket just in case I drop or lose the house phones (so if I don't pick up, don't worry. Just wait, I'll probably call you back on a different number). The kids' snacks, play clothes, bribes, are all laid within easy reach. The logistics are daunting. Though, apparently studies do show that people who live alone recover from back pain faster than those living with people; they have to.
But it's not exactly true that I'm really by myself, either. I have friends lined up to be here for bus drop-off and lunch, to be sure at least that the kids get in the house and get fed. Maybe today's friend will help pick up that bottle. And then every other day, friends are generously bringing meals. Some, like today, are even staying for a visit. And then there are the friends who are visiting just to say hi, like Mama Teacher, who has been by several times in the last four weeks; it helps so much. And the people who call and email and send cards and offer to do anything we need . . . .
I wrote yesterday about the gift my parents had given me. I have received several similar gifts this last month, for which I am deeply grateful, like the meals and offers and calls and visits: from my sister who has calls regularly to check in and get a medical report; my cousin who reads, comments, and emails about my blog (thanks for yesterday's letter, Cousin S); Lambeth, who has called from England twice and sent cheerful notes; the neighbors, who are sending their kids to play with mine in the afternoons so Sis and Bud don't get bored; blog friends who have never met me in person but who check in.
The kids are helping too: from adapting their play to a horizontal mom (who has mastered drawing on a clipboard in the air and playing games on her chest) to doing more things on their own, from keeping pathways on the floor clear to not jumping on or near me. Plus all the hugs and pictures and reassurances and general un-fazed-ness. Only sometimes does the worry creep in, "Mom, are you ever going to bend again?"
And then there's Mama. I haven't written about Mama. No loving posts full of gratitude. I feel it. I just haven't gotten it into the right post yet; I might not. But I've told her.
So, sure, I'm by myself this morning for a few hours. But I'm not really on my own.
No comments:
Post a Comment