Showing posts from May, 2013

Today I Am A Caretaker

Today I am a caretaker. I have to be careful now that my son is watching.  You live what you learn, they say, so I’m extra gentle.  I need to make sure he learns how to treat me when I’m old and exploding.
I narrate my motions:
“I’m opening the drapes now so she can see and feel the warm sunlight.  Keep the sheers closed though, because you don’t want her get blinded if she opens her eyes.”
“See how softly I’m speaking?  It lets her know I’m here in a way that feels like a voice hug.  It spreads a calm inside of her.”
“Pull the wheelie-tray table over to the foot of the bed.  Make sure it has everything you need and all of it is unwrapped and sterilized.”
“Now, pull the covers back slowly.  All the way.  One even motion.  Pretend you’re uncovering a pond of sleeping frogs.”
My mother lies sleeping through all of this, or lies quiet and away in whatever bottomless place she’s resting in. 
It’s hard to tell without measuring if her leg is larger than it was yesterday, even so, I know …