With her decreasing mobility, Mom’s world has slowly shrunk to her recliner and its reachable environs: her needlepoint basket, and her end table drawers with books and jelly beans and O’Henry bits and the telephone directory and TV remotes, and tweezers and nail clippers…and tissues. She does venture out on the occasional trans-oceanic voyage to the upstairs laundry room, or trans-continental trek to the mailbox. Even the main level bathroom, however, is a journey. Her recliner has become the center of her universe, with a constellation of personal items close by. She seems to prefer Little Caesar’s Pizza napkins for tissues, though I find them rough for tissues and useless for napkins. I hear a drawer opening, a nose blowing, a tissue rustling, then shake my head as the used tissue goes back into the drawer for multiple later usages as the weeks drip by. Instead of just shaking my head this time, I found a solution and brought her a small garbage can and a box of clean tissues. Do you have a garbage can, Mom? No? I see that you don’t have a garbage can. Here is a small garbage can. And here is a box of new clean tissues. No more recycling used tissues, okay? And I left her to grasp the implications of what I had said: throw away your used tissues into the garbage can. I looked over at her at the next nose-blowing sound, and saw with satisfaction a new white tissue, and clenched with chagrin and futility as the used white tissue dropped into her top drawer for later reuse.
Rabbit Lane 
And how many times do you have to clean out that tissue drawer, Roger? Excellent try, though.
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Yeah, that drawer is forbidden territory!
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I love your descriptive choices. I apologize for not keeping up on how you & your mom are getting by. I so wish things and she were better. Having a time here, wondering daily how Tesla, Edison, Franklin, & many others seemed to mysteriously be lifted with 48 hours in a single day for accomplishment, & I can’t seem to find or make time lately to catch up with posts & our dear blogging friends. Hope that chandelier of yours has all its bulbs-a-glowin’ still.
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No worries on this end, but it’s always nice to hear from you. You are likely still within your grief journey, and I wish you safe travels. Our journey here continues, and we are learning to move through and with the events and emotions of life.
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Typo correction: gifted with 48 hours in a single day for accomplishments
My phone is a sneaky devil, I typed both words correctly, & it changed both of them again. I had to pluralize (is that a word) the “accomplishments” 3 x!! I must stop using my phone for comments.
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lol no worries!
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Using the phone again… ugh. 😃 I do learn, I just don’t always implement.
I am, friend. I cry every day to this day, admittedly.
Murphy is the epitome of peace, love, deep connection, & constant companionship for me. You know us well here. I will catch up on your journey. I regret not locating the time I know is there somewhere to catch up with our wonderful blogging family/friends. I still say “our” apparently.
Your mother is blessed, and you are blessed with caring characters in your life.
I appreciate your take on situations that demand all remaining energy & humor that we may have left in the hurt for our loved ones’ lot as well as our own, because it is difficult, to put it lightly. If there is no humor, no lightness ever, in situations as these, we surely could fall flat from exhaustion.
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Thanks Dawn! I have worried that people might think I am making fun of my mother or complaining about her. I am not. Thank you for seeing that these events do have a component of humor, which can be appropriately expressed, even while they are hard events to experience. I will keep trying to walk that tightrope! Roger
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