(From a Facebook post today on my account, which you can find by clicking HERE.)
In the middle of a Facebook conversation with Roger Dorband and others this morning, I left to go get the paper and another jug of water. As I went out the door and turned to the car, there was a mountainside lit up and made to glow by the sun that had just risen.
Tom and I spend these days differently now than we did fifty years ago, reading aloud, finding a place to draw, my reconstructing for him the pattern of the days, since his mind no longer fits the pieces together in a way that makes sense, and it baffles him occasionally. We’ve come south by train for a few weeks of sun and warmth.
Today we may take a cab to the museum since the Film Festival will make parking impossible. I can anticipate and remember the many times and exhibits we’ve loved there, and I’ll have to remember how to rebuild just enough of that for Tom so he can look forward to it too. Otherwise, it must seem to him like plunging off into a terrible void.
I realize how this medium allows me company and conversation I really need. It puts me right in a friend’s kitchen, sharing thoughts and laughter, some resignation, hugs and observations we’ve done before and will do again. Real conversations by phone, like last night with Hester, are life-lines, too. It begins to feel all of a piece.
From Borrego Springs, California