When did it change? When did she become the child, and her daughters the adults? She didn't like it. Why should they boss her around, telling her she'd be better off in a nursing home? Hadn't she given the best years of her life to them? Caring for them? Nursing them? Paying for their education? Giving them wonderful weddings? Who did they think they were, telling her she had to get out of her home? That she had to move into a nursing home?
She had been up since five o'clock, just fretting about it—saying goodbye to her house, her things, her old way of life, her beloved cat. The harder she thought, the faster she rocked.
The raspy squawk of her old glider chair was the only sound in the still morning air. She rocked and she thought of the day just ahead. Her mind was filled up with worry and dread."In a very few hours, they will take me away. I don't see their reasoning of why I can't stay." I bore all three children right here in this house. We had years of happiness, I and my spouse.
She rocked even harder as she looked all around—so many sweet memories in her home could be found: on the wall near the fridge was a picture of Jim. Her heart nearly broke when she thought about him. A pilot, he'd crashed in a plane years ago. Her one son--and youngest--had been like his dad so. The loss of her son, and then of her Bill had left a vast vacancy nothing could fill. - Her eyes searched the room. There were memories galore: her knick-knacks, her silver, her dishes, and more.
She went to the kitchen to make some fresh tea . "This privilege, too, will be taken from me." She stooped down to give little Gypsy her milk. How she'd miss her loud purr and her fur, soft as silk. "With you, my companion, I felt never alone. I know you'll be happy in your brand new home."
She glanced at the clock. It fast approached noon. Her daughters, to take her, would be here very soon.
They'd said, "You know, Mom, you don't need this much space. You'll be happier, far, in that lovely new place. There's a garden, a fish pond, and a cat they call 'Mew'. There'll be many folks there the same age as you. You'll be able to talk about things of the past. You'll never get bored. The days will go fast.”
As she sipped at her tea, she choked back her tears, "Why can't I stay here? It's been fine all these years. I still do my cleaning, my cooking and such. But my daughters keep telling me, 'The work is too much.'"
The doorbell was ringing. Her time here was up. She swiped at her eyes and rinsed out her cup. "I'll not make a fuss. They'll not see me cry." She picked up her coat, with a silent, "Goodbye." She made up her mind, right there on the spot. She'd make the best of it, this her new lot.
And now a month later she'd shed all her tears. She'd vented her anger, resentment, her fears. With new friends around her, and new things to do, she looked at the world from a fresh point of view. Instead of bemoaning her state-of-affairs she kept herself busy aiding invalids there. There was plenty to do. She helped some of them eat. With others she talked, or rubbed their sore feet. She made friends a'plenty, with "home-mates" and staff. They all called her "Bubbly", because of her laugh.
With new zest for life she arose now each day. She'd adopted a family. She was happy to stay.
