An accumulation of moments – phone calls, encounters
My cousin Marsha called when my mother’s fire alarm went off.
A pot left on the stove til its contents were burnt.
Harriet came over to help her when she couldn’t place her book order with Amazon.
At Thanksgiving I met my mother escorted by a stranger. Your mother
wondered if you’d be here to meet me. “Jamie, were you expecting me?”
“Of course, you come every year.” Seems her memory was being left behind.
After a few, what are you going to dos, I began looking at places
for Mom. In Spring we visited a retirement community.
She liked the community; she enjoyed the attention. I made some choices. My brothers met with her accountant making sure it was right.
The summer of the move. Lists and plans. A visit scheduled; my
brothers and I converged to pack and sift through a lifetime of possessions.
Decision made; execution time. Shoes sorted and shared. Furniture met
consignment. Hours and objects hinge on one thing happening before the next.
An imperfect moving day – longer than expected, my mother left with my
brother, the dog could not fly on a day when temperatures reached 80
before . . . Arrival in Austin, Mom, then me, then Stanley.
Somehow I don’t remember how long before the furniture arrived.
She moved.
a string of days 