It's all getting better overall, in tiny steps, and sometimes in great leaps, and sometimes there are days when it doesn't feel like it at all.
Today is one of them.
I was once a small girl in a very soft hand-knitted cardigan with brass buttons, which brought me much comfort. (I mean both the buttons and the cardigan, as it goes.)
That girl is very close to my heart and I feel her pain still. Only I can comfort her.
I slept badly last night, uncertain sometimes if I'd been awake for hours or only moments, but awake much for sure.
My mother likes her wheelchair, the sunshine it allows her to feel, the view it allows her to look at, (though she thinks I push her too fast...) And her food, and white lilies and me.
My mother is slowing down.
2 comments:
A moving post, Fire Bird. That girl is very close to my heart and I feel her pain still. Only I can comfort her" has resonance for me.
Glad she likes her chair, and you. Glad you liked your brass-buttoned cardy.
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