On Friday, I woke at 6 am, showered, and tried to reach one of the nurse managers at work. Three phone calls later all I’d gotten was voice mail. I left messages. After I packed all the stuff I needed to give Mom’s CPA, my appointment with the lady was at 11, I ate breakfast at Starbucks. I could get on the Internet there. My indulgence was to check my email.
Working from dawn to into the night, much longer than my 12-hour shifts in the PICU. I woke when the pearlescent sky peeked through Mom’s dusty curtains. Dust, clutter, and grime… so much to do and only me to do it. My mind raced with all the tasks ahead – Mom’s taxes, finding her shoes, and packing, finding the important stuff amongst all the dross. Before I felt the enormity of my tasks bearing down on me, I moved on, tapped the feelings down
“One step at a time.” I heard that before, a platitude.
When you’re working as hard as I am… when there’s not enough hours to get what needs doing done… then the day goes fast. Lately, I am so task oriented it sickens me. On second thought, I’m not completely lost. I paused to enjoy…
Reading an encouraging text message from a friend.
Mom’s smile when she saw me coming through the door.
The clear crescent moon shining so close to Venus that the two could almost touch.
I called Barry to ask him if he could see it.
“No, it’s snowing.”
“Snowing!” Ah, it’s still winter back there.