Wednesday, April 3, 2013

richochet

i turned the page on my calendar on monday as i sat by daddy's side. april. when we began this journey, the trees lining the highway looked as if they were shivering in the february wind as i drove east on those cloudy days.

there is a patch along the road i've been watching these six weeks. back in the beginning, i noticed a tinge of pale blue there and wondered just what it would turn out to be when spring came, though i never expected to be able to witness it. i thought i'd be traveling a different road, the one home. but in all this time i have driven back to where i grew up only twice. but i have come to know this new road well.

the patch is turning a crisp blue now, the flowers, whatever they are, reaching toward the sun like we all are. hoping for light. 

it's been a long, rainy, cold winter this year and we are all so wanting it to be over. wanting light to come.

when i dressed for work this morning i was looking for something bright. it's april, after all. i put on an old thin springlike sweater (no time for finding anything new this spring)  but the wind hit me and i came back inside and grabbed a scarf, hoping to hold off the cold. lunchtime i checked in with my mother, who was at my dad's side today, ever the nursemaid. all was well.

then a phone call from my sister that began: well...the same way it began in February. only this time, a different parent.

my mother had fallen. and now: both parents in the hospital. at the same time. i still can't believe it as i write.

How to react? my sister so far away, me at work, my brother at ground zero. It is unbelievable ... and not. we trade turns saying the good things: at least they are in the same hospital! we can trade out visits! life could be worse! yes, all of that.

but.

we all know the roller coaster has left the tracks. the car just felt the slick in the road and missed the curve. and Daddy sleeps, unable to tell us what to do.

 
writemuch.blogspot is the original work of author susan byrum rountree. all written work and photography is copyright protected and can only be used with written permission of the author.

3 comments:

  1. Hello Susan. I had not realized your father was so ill. And am so sorry to hear of your mother's fall. This must be such a difficult time for you and your family. And a very significant one. It sounds like you are leaning into it with all you have.
    Wishing Blessings to you from the bottom of my heart.

    Kay

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  2. Susan, this sounds incredibly difficult. You are in my prayers. I fell a bit in love with your father from your Essays on Childhood. I hope this situation gets better soon.

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  3. I only know you through fellow writers, but I sense the pain and bewilderment in every word. Sending thoughts of strength for you and your siblings, peace for your father, freedom from pain and a quick recovery for your mother.

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