This morning I got a call from Mom just a little after 5:30 am. Grandpappy, who is in the early stages of dementia, wasn’t responding to instruction. When this happens he needs to be lifted by some one for his medicine, changing, bed making, etc. I get the phone call when Dad is at work and Mom needs me to be the muscle. It’s no big deal, but this was one of the late night/early morning calls where Corey was still at home so I could run out while Muffin slept.
And there, even in the mad dash to get to the place I first called home, I find a sense of freedom. I have had a little person in the car for over a year now, and the tone of the drive is very calm and filled with baby banter back and forth. Even if Corey and I go somewhere without her, not much is on in the background because we are chatting.
So at 5:45 am, I rolled down the windows and cranked up the radio. It was still dark outside and not many cars were out in our small rural town. I felt like I was breaking the law, like I was 16, on my way home from a friend’s house in the early hours. The morning dew making streaks across the front glass and my headlights the only ones lighting the road. At this early hour I was energized, half singing and half shouting the lyrics to the music pumping out of the speakers.
When I reached Mom and Dad’s I was ready to get to work. We had Grandpappy all fixed up and tucked back into bed in no time. On my way back home I jammed out, until reaching our little town’s limits and turning the music down. When I pulled into our gravel drive and looked at all the darkened windows, I felt myself transform back into Mommy. I quietly unlocked the front door, took the baby monitor from my snoozing husband, and went downstairs to make a quiet cup of tea.
The entire morning made me realize just how far I’ve come, even if where we ended up was a 5-minute drive from where I started.
|May 30th 2005|