i feel like a rat to the glittery!

my mom’s antique (great?) grandmother’s junk, oops, I mean fine costume, jewelry, that, I really like. I’ve always been an unjewelry person, but I really like all these glitteries. I can’t decide if it is the ancestral emotional umbilical cord that links me to the “stuff” or just the glitteries. perhaps it is because it is like my art materials, harvested junk with a naturally aged and worn patina. though unlike my tire tubes these glitters may or may not have the monetary value of junk, so I am unsure as to whether to wear it or not since loosing a stone or chunk of glass is a serious possibility. the dirt is so thick upon this one, I can’t even begin to guess, glass or cut stone. glitter, glitter, I feel like a rat.

grungy potential glitter view

only later did I realize my mom had spent the late afternoon crying. ooooh. she’d asked me to help her go through one of her dressers to separate the precious memory linked objects from stuff more just trinket-hoodish (to give away). it’s something I witness people do as they age or begin winding down–the de-cluttering and hoarding of “stuff.” each object whether linked to a strong memory or trinket-hood had an associated story to go with it. I did this with my grandmother in 2007 and now do it with my mother here in 2011. I enjoy the stories but catch myself becoming short in waiting on the tales associated with even cheap plastics from the mid 70s. I have to re-orient myself to focus on being present with my mom and her associations and not rush forward with my own. it is hard to remain open, patient, and present. though I worked on being present with her all afternoon, i discovered later that as she scooted back and forth in her motorized chair when all had been put away that I failed to notice her tears. I am so sorry I mentally went away when I thought we’d finished. I didn’t really consider what this process must be like for her, this strange winding down and de-stuffing. I wish I had known how to remain more present with her. ouch for both of us for totally different reasons. ouchy.

and then on top of that I had a little too much wine, as I prepared our dinner, to drive her back to the nursing home. she really wanted me to come even if I didn’t drive. but I am tired and didn’t go with her and my dad. this really hurt her feelings even though I said I would be the one to take her back tomorrow.

i understand that there is this weird specialness the elderly derive from having their loved ones seen by their peers in the nursing home. it makes them feel loved and special; it makes all the losses associated with living there just a little more tolerable. and my mom so makes the best of it that I hate to disappoint her. but in some weird way I need to assert my me-ness. (notice how much if you say that aloud it sounds like meanness.) agggh no more wine while I cook or writing blogs in the aftermath–makes me too selfish.


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