sky from my window ~
On June 23rd, I moved Dad into a Memory Care Unit. That particular day, he didn't smell so good. Rather than wait for help
a problem of mine
I gave him a shower.
"Should I strip down?" he asked.
He stripped down, used his walker and wobbled into the shower. I soaped his head and back. He took care of the rest.
Three days later I was on a plane to Barcelona for a second summer of writing workshops, craft seminars, severe jet lag. 2 weeks. This is a dream. Si?
I've had problems accessing my computer and email which is both frustrating and a relief? I may not get back here again? [my computer] Even now as I write this, it's taking very long to load my photos. I have a class to attend in twenty minutes.
For now I can say this:
mucho dogs here walking without leashes
old women in shirt dresses.
tiny streets and wide avenues
beautiful women (+ men)
incredible sinks in el bano
a railing to hang my drying panties on
This list says nada of the mountains and valleys of feelings.
This Being Alive is sitting by a window looking out on the green park. It is raining. The first time since I've been here. It is almost two o'clock and I have not had a cerveza. This is good. Maybe because the rain has cooled things off. Or the tea is just as good.
I miss my family; the girls, the dog, cats, my garden.
My husband, Michael, working in Los Angeles.
Our family life is a fluid thing,
This is what we say.
We are fluid.
I'll say this before I run to class ~
It's never too late to do something new, to find an open door, a kind of freedom. I've danced all my life with my need for this freedom, the balance of motherhood, family, responsibilities,
showering old dad?
wanting to walk streets I don't know,
all my myself.
besos y abrazos,