a quick turn-around

Today with Aunt Grace I took a long ride west on Rt. 70 to pick up the neutralizing chemicals for our well water. Without the correction it's so acid it doesn't even register any pH when we test it. The real sign is when there are blue stains in the shower. Now we test it every month to avoid any more copper leaching, but I digress.

Aunt Grace doesn't get out much anymore, or more precisely, she cannot go out on a whim (and on the bus) like she used to. Her heart is functioning at only 10% but she manages to perform all the activities of daily living and have as robust a social life as one could have, considering how many family members and friends she's outlived. I thought she might enjoy the ride, and there's a pretty good diner on the traffic circle at 70 and 206. The plumbing supply store is just around the corner from the diner. I could probably get the chemicals closer, but it's a very pleasant drive and today was a magnificent day.

We had a lovely casual lunch and on the way back Aunt Grace asked if we could stop for some groceries. I call her when I'm going but usually she's well-stocked, and besides, she likes to pick out her own produce. She's only asked me outright once to take her grocery shopping, but the normal drill is that if we're out together for any other reason, a trip to the store is part of the itinerary.

It seems as though a few dozen monster dump trucks had just unloaded the entire Ocean County population of senior citizens at ShopRite in Manchester. I never had indigestion come on so fast in my life! Navigating up and down the aisled gave me a good visual representation of how clots form, or strokes begin. I didn't have much shopping to do, and I didn't have my list, and I was confused about what I'll need for Christmas Eve (I told Jill I'd make cookies); my Christmas dinner which is on Sunday, for just hobbitt and me and Aunt Grace and cousin J.; and New Year's Eve when I'll have several out-of-town guests. I got through pretty quickly and ran my groceries out to the car. Normally I can find Aunt Grace in a jiffy, but today the sheer number of short, white-haired ladies in beige coats was mind-boggling. I remembered she'd had on her sporty blue and green hat, but she's so short I couldn't even pick that out in the crowd. I did the perimeter of the store twice, glancing down each aisle and peering at the folks in the checkout aisles, to no avail. I was making my third trip to the foyer when I found her, panting but seated, near the exit door.

She was pretty shaky, had overdone it again. We sat there for ten minutes or so, and then I took her cart out and loaded her groceries into my car, and picked her up at the curb. She was leaning against a post, looking really beat. Luckily it wasn't too cold or too windy - that combo is pretty lethal for her.

When we reached her house I helped her in then unloaded the groceries. She needed to sit, but wouldn't as long as I was trying to put her stuff away, so we sat and talked for a while. I think she's just about ready for assisted living, and not because she can't take care of herself - it's more of a social thing. She cried and said she was struggling - and I had to ask her directly what she meant. "Socially" was her answer. She's been to Europe twelve times, has been on every almost every continent, and always had tickets to the Met in NY. She never drove but traveled extensively on the bus or train to wherever she needed to go, whenever she wanted. Even after moving into the village, she had the bus and her freedom. Now she doesn't have the legs, or the wind anymore. Many of her surviving friends have moved away, either to nursing homes or assisted living or to be closer to their children out-of-state.

She was supposed to go out yesterday on a village trip to visit a nearby town's holiday light display, but the wind/cold combo kept her inside. We had this date today and tomorrow she's going out with her nephew (her brother's son) and his wife. I believe she had an outing on Saturday too. This is all so much more excitement than I can handle, and it's hard for me to realize what loneliness is for her. I could never have kept up with her. Well, maybe 20 years ago.

Aunt Grace is no burden, but I'm going through my rebellious don't-want-responsibility stage again. When I got home, hobbitt informed me that my mother's only surviving sibling, Aunt Marie, called, stating she was disappointed that I hadn't called her since Thanksgiving, and that she'd call back this evening.

I'll be the first to admit I avoid her a little. There's an unhappy history there, and though it's minor it approaches the same territory as my feelings about my nephews. She has three grown children (children? They're all in the 50's and 60's) nearby and I have no reason to feel any obligation to her, though she is my godmother. My cousin J mentioned that she complained to him that I never called her, never invited her when I would have Aunt Grace (who has been a guest of my family at every family function since I can remember, which is at least 40 years). My first reaction upon hearing of her disappointment was to see red: her children didn't give my mother the time of day or ever went out of their way to stop in to visit. My family hasn't received an invitation from her or her family in at least 20 years. Of course I felt guilty and regretful and angry and annoyed and resentful.

I practiced some scenarios, and none of them were nice or kind or generous or compassionate. Mostly I didn't want to talk with her this evening, because I don't like to talk on the phone with anyone in the evening. The dog needed a ball game so I took her out back and stuck my cell phone in my pocket, feeling ugly and ratty and not knowing what to do, but not wanting to have my evening shaken by having to listen to her do her trip on me.

And for once in my life I remembered myself. I searched the place in me that doesn't have pride, that doesn't seek recompense, that can gratefully accept whatever is in front of me. I dialed her number while I threw the ball for Inti. When she answered, I started out immediately, "Oh Aunt Marie I'm so sorry I haven't called you since Thanksgiving! That was very negligent of me and I'm really sorry about it. How are you doing?" and she laughed and we talked for about an hour. I dragged out that mostly-sincere chirpy chatting voice and it was okay. It cost me nothing, and in fact it rid me of a boatload of angst. I don't care if it was the high road or not, but I turned my mood of dread around to one of satisfaction, and there's hardly a price tag for that.