Life of Wry

The peacefulness of this moment.. my goodness, it’s like the quietness at the bottom of the ocean (never been there, but I imagine it’s a heavy silence, the way it feels now). Am I allowed to love this peace and stillness and still love the frenetic-ness of a houseful of family members, who were guests for four days but are now, as of a couple hours ago, gone?  Of course I know the answer to that.

There is so much to enjoy in this moment, sitting alone by the fire in complete silence, not a thing to do. Enjoying it so much because I (have to say) earned it.  Many, I’m sure, are sitting on couches, next to fires having earned this moment, after a frenzy of planning and cooking and hosting and entertaining and cleaning. A wonderful and worthwhile frenzy, but a relentless one… without which this moment in deep comfort and doziness would be less contrastingly pleasurable.

But more than the quiet and odd lack of something to do, I feel intensely accomplished. I’m intensely satisfied by the effort of the last couple weeks preparing for this holiday, for their visit.  It was my gift to my mom, who hadn’t traveled in years, but who rose to the occasion with some but not an unreasonable amount of anxiety.

It all went so well.

Matt and Chris said she was giddy as she climbed, four days ago, aboard the 30-f00t, rented RV (thank you, Matt.. a brilliant idea that allowed her to travel comfortably).  She’d anticipated the trip for a couple of months and had been mostly packed weeks ago. She’d assembled a beautiful basket of wines, cheeses, crackers and candy to present to us and was so eager to get here.  But she also had no idea how she’d do so far from home, away from routines and resources.  Having some kind of medical emergency was not a far-fetched idea, she has them fairly frequently.

So we kept it low key; some activities, but mostly stayed close to home.  We had a couple meals out, many meals in (including the big one), a movie, and lots of game time. I even had my massage therapist come over to give mom a relaxation massage.

She loved all of it, or at least appreciated it all. She said numerous time, “I feel so normal.”

She might have lots of these kinds of trips left in her.  But she might not have any more.  It’s impossible to say.  I know I feel very gratified that it all unfolded smoothly.  I wasn’t always relaxed–worried she might slide off a stool, slip in the shower, fall out of bed, cough embarrassingly (for her) in the theater, have a heart episode, hit her head, get sick, throw up, fall down, faint.. whatever.   I wasn’t always patient–frustrated when she offered unwanted advice on how to prepare the dressing, or took too many sleeping pills one night and got up crazy late, acting and sounding slurry and drunk, or didn’t bring warm enough clothing (for the umpteenth millionth time.. I just can never impress upon her how cold it is in northern California).. but actually, even these tried and true trigger points were less charged than usual, I think because we all knew it was a bfd that she was even here at all and we just wanted everything to be nice.

It was.  I think it’ll get even richer in the retelling and will linger in her memory as perfect, once the memory of any imperfections fades. She now knows she can do it (!) and will be less reticent, maybe, next time.  We’ll see.

And here she is looking super happy, sitting in the front seat, just before departure.  She wasn’t in a hurry to leave at all, but she’s happy everything went well.  It’s a really nice picture of her, relaxed and unselfconscious (shot through the window):

Here’s Matt, without whom the trip would NOT have happened.  He is a god.  A god. A god. A god. A god.

Here’s Chris, the go along with whatever guy. I think he actually liked Davis, in a I-would-never-live-here-but-it’s-a-nice-enough-place-if-too-far-from-surfing way.

And here’s the RV, just backed out of the driveway. Big, huh?

Anyway, a good, good trip in the bag!  And another Thanksgiving in the can. Yay.