Home again, home again, jiggity jig

Twanoh State Park

Monday and I’m home, in my cabin, about to plunge into some writing.

But first, to tell you about my weekend.

I had a busy weekend. My three girls (all three!) went to Hood Canal with me for a family weekend. We camped at Twanoh State Park Friday night, and though we couldn’t get a campsite beyond that, it was worth all the trouble to set up, even for one night. We had a campfire and campfire food; we had a babbling brook right outside our tent. We had amazing, moss-hung trees overhead, and Hood Canal shimmering nearby.

On Saturday my sister hosted a family garage sale in nearby Allyn, Washington. My sister from Idaho was there, along with two of her kids, their spouses, and her two adorable grandchildren. My other sister’s oldest daughter and her family (more adorable children) were there. My girls and I had brought a whole box of children’s books to sell. I think I made $2 from books, but I was able to give a whole bunch of them away to my little great-nieces. I brought home more stuff than I took.

My nephew Kyle and his wife taught me to play Banana-grams. My brother-in-law not only cooked and cleaned and only talked a very, very little bit about Rush Limbaugh (“He said that you liberals would say he was crazy!”), but he also
gave me a bottle of Duck Pond Chardonnay. It was a great visit with everyone. One of our cousins dropped by — a cousin I hadn’t seen in years and years. Decades.

On Sunday we had a big dinner (more cooking and cleaning for the b-i-l), pictures, etc. There were, of course, lots and lots (and lots) of family confabs about my mom and what will happen next with her care.

I keeptrees asking for a crystal ball (re: my mother’s future), and though no one has delivered one yet, I am getting more clarity. Mom has lost a lot, the use of her left side, enjoyment of food, mystery novels, family dinners. Short term memory. But when you walk into her room, she sits up straight and her whole body seems to light up. She
may not remember your name (or she may) but she remembers you and it is a great pleasure, obviously, for her to see you.

My job is to pay attention. And to keep writing.

I guess a blog post is writing.

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