Tag: aging parents

F is for Falls

“Tell me about the fall,” the¬†Physician’s Assistant asked as he removed the stitches from my father’s forehead the other day,. “It’s a long story,” my father deflected. “I’d like to hear it,” the PA said. My father launched into his very short story —… Continue Reading “F is for Falls”

Celebrate 88

“This is such a great idea,” any number of people said the other day when we hosted a birthday party for my father at the Otesaga. Not to be morbid, but the idea came from receiving lines at funerals. When my oldest brother died… Continue Reading “Celebrate 88”

Subscriber of the Day

My youngest brother composed this song when he was a wee lad. The daily newspaper that my parents read was called the Oneonta Star and one day my little brother burst into this song. It’s much better than my first song which was called… Continue Reading “Subscriber of the Day”

Roots

I need to apologize to Osyth. A few weeks ago in her blog, Half-Baked in Paradise, she wrote about moving. Something about her words broke my heart. Maybe it was this: My heart felt the leaden weight of sorrow because my safe-place, my home,… Continue Reading “Roots”

Self-diagnosis

My father was reading Time magazine the other day. “Can you read the date of this?” he asked me when I came in the room. I squinted and read, “July 17, 2000.” “So it’s current,” he said. “No, Dad,” I told him. “This is… Continue Reading “Self-diagnosis”

Shouting

Laurel said the other day, “We should all learn another language. As a family, you know?” “Why?” I asked. “Well, then if we’re someplace all together and we want to say to something to someone in the family but we don’t really want everyone… Continue Reading “Shouting”

Patience

“Quite frankly, God,” I said, “I’m getting a little tired of working on this patience thing. Could we move on to something else?” Yesterday morning, I had been awakened by my father’s whistling. It’s happy whistling — “O Danny Boy” — evidence of his… Continue Reading “Patience”

Rain

I’m beginning to anticipate What his response might be — My mother blamed “the others” For things we didn’t see, But my father’s not a blamer So, when he can’t explain “It fell down from the sky,” he says, Like some mysterious rain. I… Continue Reading “Rain”

At the Corner

At the corner of Grove and Spring Streets, I paused. Maggie dropped her fish and panted while I stepped back to survey the building from a different angle. It’s a lovely setting surrounded by trees. Porches and patios invite the residents to enjoy the… Continue Reading “At the Corner”

Barefoot Girl

“Oh, I see you’re a barefoot girl this morning,” my father said, looking at my feet. I was indeed barefoot, as is often the case when I’m still in my pajamas. “A barefoot girl with shoes on,” he continued, smiling as he said it.… Continue Reading “Barefoot Girl”