change of plans

Today is my daughter Deanna’s birthday.

The plan was for her to fly up our town yesterday, spend the weekend with us to celebrate. The idea of her giving us a gift of a weekend for her birthday was wonderful for me. I even had planned a potluck of my church friends in her honor (she knows many of these friends).

But she called me yesterday morning fairly early. If she were to come that means that Josh and Griffy would have to stay home alone, because Curtis is out of town at a teachers conference. The brothers dearly love each other, but they are at the age when they would do a lot of things before admitting any affection!

You know what I said to her: My heart hurts for you to not come up, but my head says that is the absolute right thing to stay home with your boys. It was really OK.

The trip, she insists is postponed and not cancelled. I am glad.

I did feel very sad about the change though, but I'd be OK, I was sure. We were about to eat and my phone rang: Arline, daughter 1. “Well come on up.” She knew I was depressed and sad.

She lives 250 miles away over a road that has a couple of passes and it is winter and there is snow everywhere and there is no reason to go except my head. Miriam immediately threw a fit, (Alz patents don’t like change of ANY kind), and we argued a bit, foolishly.

While we were eating I turned to her and said: “We are going.’ She did not argue.

Called friends, canceled the potluck, called other friends to cover for weekend duty. Packed up and in about 3 hours we were on the road: Miriam, Leo the dog and I.

Both of my fathers were truck drivers and there is more than a little of that in my blood. I like to drive (not so much in cities, being a small state guy). Just give me a place to go and some wheels and I am ready.

The trip was fine, the roads were dry, the snow a week old. We stopped for an hour at daughter 2’s (Lora) house and had a good fast time with her and her kids (not little kids any longer). Then on 45 miles further to Arline’s. We will go back to Lora’s on our way home next week.

We have lived in this area a lot of years. It is not really home in that abstract way that we can’t measure, but somehow cling to, but it is a decent place. It is good to be surrounded by family, and love, and good food!

Last night I called my neighbor who has the keys to my house, to get the mail, feed the fish and look after things. We might not get back home for almost a week. He agreed. “Of course, Dave.”

Oh, and I took my new medicine and I am coping better, if only in my mind dreams.