Mom isn’t feeling too well. I feel bad for her. She told me, “You must be disappointed with your visit.” I’m not. I told her that I am happy to be here. That is the truth.
I am up early. At this moment, I am reconnecting with the sense of time and space I had as a kid. The sounds cycle from dead silence to the annoying low rumble of some compressor outside the window. The silence is almost the kind that one hears in an audiologist’s anechoic chamber; that silence that enables one to hear the defects in one’s own hearing. It reminds me of a trip to visit one of my friends who lived in an isolated canyon in northern Utah many years ago. I could hear the air molecules bouncing off my eardrum. My sense of space was fooled. It alternated between feeling like head was in a three-foot wide cubical box, and feeling like a dot in the middle of nowhere.
My plans to see younger brother before our excursion to see Mike, our older brother, were scuttled. [For those of you who don’t follow my blog regularly, Mike is autistic, profoundly retarded and nonverbal. He is in a group home/geriatric facility. I haven’t seen him in a while.] Anticipated ground transportation did not come through. It was disappointing on one hand, but a relief on the other. I did want spend more time with Mom, not only to try to fill in a couple of memory lapses on my part, but to connect with her on a human level.
But interaction is hard when one party is feeling crappy. She said she never felt this crummy before. I’m a little concerned.
It is not even Thanksgiving and yet, some TV stations are running Christmas movies; not the traditional ones like A Christmas Carol or Miracle on 34th Street, but the formulaic tear jerkers that one might see excerpted on a greeting card, if you catch my drift. Mom told me, “I can’t help it, but I like these dopey movies.” At least she knows they are dopey.
It is now night time. We just watched a couple of Big Bang Theory episodes. Mom likes the show, but she doesn’t think Sheldon is a nice person at all. I hope that was not a classified family secret.
Mom just went to bed.
Tomorrow is another day
All in all, it was a quiet day. I’m pretty sure that I won’t be able to fill in any gaps in my memories of childhood about Mike. But the visit isn’t over yet. It doesn’t matter much I can live with what I already know. I just hope Mom feels better tomorrow.