(no subject)
This morning was luminous with moonlight on frost. The cats walked in the orchard with delicate crunching with ice crisp leaves underfoot.
I sit holding Christine, who woos back sleep against her morning terrors. I think of trees. Beeches, two, to seed my ark-lot, to have their pale winter leaves shining in the woods like the three young trees we found on my sister's new bit of property from a trade with a neighbor. The tulip poplars tall and strong, with such a will to grow straight up: the tree that has a main trunk at 45 degrees to the ground with all the new trunks growing straight up I keep as a study to see how long it grows at such a cantilevered fight with gravity.
What i sent to Mom's mailing list:
There was no holiday from therapy for Mom, for which we are thankful. I didn't see her for three days while dealing with a nasty cold, so i hoped i'd see the improvements more clearly. And i do. While right side weakness and the aphasia are still very significant, her face is alight with curiosity and energy. Her left hand moves with a fluidity in handling things. More words come to her lips and her hand signals seem more easily interpreted. Part of her rehab is going back and singing the ABC's -- and i needed to be reminded to go slow. I didn't ask her to show me her thumb, like her doctor did to determine her integration of perception a week ago, but she seems to be more coherently aware.
Dad with with her early Christmas, before he joined my sister's family, [me] & her spouse for Christmas lunch. We brought desert, a panettone Mom had purchased for the holiday, and coffee to the hospital after Mom's therapies and all of us sat and chatted for a while. Mom counted us off as we sat in an arc around the bed. Ross then returned in the evening. Mom's sister J-- will arrive tomorrow.
We are thankful for everyone's love and support for Mom.
I'd share photos except we keep forgetting to take any. Mom would document the holidays and family gatherings, and it just slips by us without her there. Word-pictures are what we have!
This is also posted at https://elainegrey.dreamwidth.org/736371.html .
I sit holding Christine, who woos back sleep against her morning terrors. I think of trees. Beeches, two, to seed my ark-lot, to have their pale winter leaves shining in the woods like the three young trees we found on my sister's new bit of property from a trade with a neighbor. The tulip poplars tall and strong, with such a will to grow straight up: the tree that has a main trunk at 45 degrees to the ground with all the new trunks growing straight up I keep as a study to see how long it grows at such a cantilevered fight with gravity.
What i sent to Mom's mailing list:
There was no holiday from therapy for Mom, for which we are thankful. I didn't see her for three days while dealing with a nasty cold, so i hoped i'd see the improvements more clearly. And i do. While right side weakness and the aphasia are still very significant, her face is alight with curiosity and energy. Her left hand moves with a fluidity in handling things. More words come to her lips and her hand signals seem more easily interpreted. Part of her rehab is going back and singing the ABC's -- and i needed to be reminded to go slow. I didn't ask her to show me her thumb, like her doctor did to determine her integration of perception a week ago, but she seems to be more coherently aware.
Dad with with her early Christmas, before he joined my sister's family, [me] & her spouse for Christmas lunch. We brought desert, a panettone Mom had purchased for the holiday, and coffee to the hospital after Mom's therapies and all of us sat and chatted for a while. Mom counted us off as we sat in an arc around the bed. Ross then returned in the evening. Mom's sister J-- will arrive tomorrow.
We are thankful for everyone's love and support for Mom.
I'd share photos except we keep forgetting to take any. Mom would document the holidays and family gatherings, and it just slips by us without her there. Word-pictures are what we have!
This is also posted at https://elainegrey.dreamwidth.org/736371.html .