Going to see my Mother


My Mom is now 90 years old. After a stroke or strokes in May 2008, she can no longer live in assisted living, so she is here out in the country in an adult foster care home. "Assisted living," "adult foster care" ---today's descriptions of ways to live when we are no longer living on our own. In the distant future they may sound as strange as asylum sounds today. There is an Asylum street in Flint which makes me wonder what once was there. So I drive every few days to the countryside. First the highway, then a two-lane road, and finally unpaved county roads; out here people know their bearings by what county they are in. It feels good to make the left turn and feel the oiled and gravel ground beneath the tires. Now in early fall some trees are spotted with red apples, trees and fruit not tended by anyone, remnants of orchards now gone.

In summer the green trees provided shade and breezes came across the green fields. My Mom and I even sat outside on the lawn, she in a wheelchair and anxious, no longer able to enjoy the summer air. That season is over now and I wonder if she will live to see it next year. This week Christopher and Kristin came with me to see Mom. We brought her absentee ballot and she voted in the 2008 presidential election. She opened her eyes and smiled, happy to see her family and to make her mark for their future.

The raptor herald

Smack!   The front legs of my chair leave the floor, my hands pop off the laptop keyboard; I jerk backward. A split second, then a tinkli...