Thanks

Talked with Mom late yesterday afternoon, after playing tennis with Steve and the boys, after listening to Oliver Twist on the headphones. Oliver had it rough.

She sounded pretty good. Told me that David had dropped by and had lunch with her. She said she'd gotten her hair shampooed and set the day before. "It's a little flat in the back where I slept on it," she said but I reassured her it didn't matter. She said her cousin Richard had stopped in earlier to say hello as well. "It was before my hair was done," she said.

She told me how she'd informed her mother that she was planning to marry her cousin Richard when she was a little girl. "My mother told me I couldn't because he was my cousin. She said we couldn't have had children then. I was mad at her."

"How old were you?"

"About ten."

"You were very opinionated back then, weren't you?"

"Always have been."

Later I told Steve that it was easier to bear conversations with my Mom when she's talking about hearing voices. Then I can say to myself that it's good she's in a nursing home where she's being cared for 24 hours a day. When she sounds so sane, like yesterday, it's harder to deal with. I feel like I should pack her up and move her out of there and in with me. I talk myself out of this, usually within minutes. I know that I can't watch her all the time. I know that she has more problems than I can handle. She told me that, once. "You couldn't handle me," she said. I felt bad and a little defiant, but I believe her now.

She said she was glad I'd called, that she loved me and then she said goodbye.