Who Says You Can't Go Home?

This is the house I grew up in. It was built by my father and his family in the early 1950s, in the glorified Appalachia that is central Pennsylvania, and one of my sisters was born here. It has two bedrooms upstairs and two on the first floor, and one bathroom. Can you believe eight of us lived here? Now, here is our story.

I found out on Facebook chat on Friday night that my dad had been admitted to the hospital. He was put on a new and stronger medication for back pain recently and it really wiped him out. He has not been himself; has been doing poorly; does not do his usual things; spends lots of time in bed.

My cousin Susie was kind enough to go, on very short notice, and sit with Mom for the evening on Friday night. And on Saturday, Mary Poppins herself (which is to say: me!) arrived, with bag and baggage. (Yes, Gondor called for aid. And they sent . . . ME.)

My job was to make sure Mom got fed, took her medications, got her eye drops at regular intervals (3X a day), and did not fall down. I am also chief phone answer person, as my mom is not wearing her hearing aids. There was trouble with one of them, it was sent to be fixed; she said just having the one in made it all sound too weird. So no go.

Dad's the one who puts the hearing aids in for her. And he's not here. So every communication with my mom is SHOUTED. Or she can't hear. She hates not being able to hear; it is very limiting and isolating. I hate shouting. She keeps apologizing, and asking, "What was that?" Her dentures also gave her trouble, she got a sore, she could not wear them on this evening.

Now, the lady (my mom) wanted teaberry ice cream and cheesy poofs for supper. So what did we have? Teaberry ice cream and cheesy poofs! We don't argue with the lady of the house! And what was *I* going to order. Well, not unlike Meg Ryan, I'll have what SHE'S having.

I am not familiar with her kitchen and cupboards anymore, so simple tasks like finding a measuring cup and sugar so I could make more sugar water to refill the empty hummingbird feeder much more complicated than you might expect. (You may see the full, and well visited, feeder on the left in this shot; it is red.)

Oh, and rural Internet? Don't get me started! We used to call it the Information Superhighway. Out here, it's more like a dirt road. I wasted half an hour on this evening trying, and failing, to post a simple photo set to Facebook. I could only post one at a time. In the morning, I could not post to Blip! The information divide is real, folks!

At dusk, I went out and chased lightning bugs, and I took this photo of my parents' house at sunset, with Mom waiting for me inside. She misses my dad a lot; they were MEANT to be together. I put her to bed and kissed her good night, and told her, We will get through this, together!

My soundtrack song is Bon Jovi and Jennifer Nettles, with Who Says You Can't Go Home.