12 Oakdale

  Time has become very elastic for me. Sometimes it seems very long, almost like a kid waiting for Christmas. Other times, it snaps back. We have been here 6 years. Can that be true? I read that people with dementia are confused WHEN, so that is why they get so upset about WHERE they are. If this is 1964, why am I here and not in my childhood home? I get it. Although I’m fairly sure I’m still coherent. Not positive, but fairly sure. It is just that some things seem like yesterday. Moving here. The kids are young, not approaching or hitting middle aged. I just bought that blouse.  Then, other events seem so long ago. I bought that shirt at Macys in Fort Lauderdale. When did we ever live there? Memories get reversed by importance? In any case, we are here, and we are well. About all I can ask for. More than my share.

Time for our annual get together: 6 high school girlfriends for a long weekend at Kathy’s house in Swanee, Georgia. I bought my airline ticket months ago. The week before kickoff, Mickie let the rest of know that she had thought about cancelling the reunion since she’d likely broken her foot while visiting Japan (Sue already knew of the accident since she was along on that trip.) She was using a knee scooter (again) and would soldier on. Then Thursday morning, right before she was to drive from Elijah, GA, Mary Bird texted that she had decided not to come so she could have “me” time. What? Is she okay? No one knows. On the home front, Monday Grant gouged a quarter-sized hole in his shin on a stick from a freeze-killed coffee plant that I had asked my yard person CC to cut to the ground. She had interpreted that to mean, “Please leave dead 12”-18” spikes sticking out off the ground when you cut back a plant.” Little swords just waiting for action. I had warned Grant to be careful when h...