I've got a month left before I make the big move to Clemson. I've decided that, no matter the cost, I'm paying for a Uhaul and movers. I've moved way too much in the last few years and I think my family is starting to shy away from me because they know I'm about to beg for help. So to save myself a headache, and to save my relationship with my family, movers it is.
Before I go, I've got a list a mile long of things that need to get done not only at my home here, but also with my grandparents who I'm sort of "in charge" of. They're in the assisted living home right now and trust me, you don't know nothin' about paperwork until you have to deal with the care of parents or grandparents. It truly is a paper trail two miles long.
I try to see them at least once a week and I'm always making phone calls for them or checking on their house or something. On Sunday, the preacher talked about how sometimes the most important things we do or conversations we have can be the most awkward. That's absolutely true. I think he was mostly referring to "the talk" but it got me thinking about my grandparents. I have to prepare myself mentally before I go see them. Grandma has Alzheimer's and Papa has a hard time talking due to a stroke he had a couple years ago. He's also a worry wort so I try to keep it light and friendly until it happens. Every time. We'll be sitting there talking about the same ol' same ol' (the weather, the food at the home, the fact that no, I'm still not married or anywhere close to being married) and my grandmother will say she needs to use the bathroom. I take her not thinking anything of it and it always results in loud noises and me having to Lysol the air in the room. And apparently it's contagious because then my papa has to go too. I know, it's gross. But not only is it gross, imagine how awkward it is when they continue to talk during the, uh, process. And then I have to help them get up.
Yeah.
Today I had a ton of running around to do for them. I truly don't mind doing it because I'm so anal about organization and checking things off of a to-do list that it's almost rewarding and a guaranteed sense of accomplishment once it's done. I visited, I distributed papers where they needed to go, and cut their grass. It's not a great grass cut but hey, it's done. And at four thirty I lunched on a well-deserved angus burger from Hardee's and a sweet tea. Caffeine after three, what a rebel.
I finally made it back home and prepared my checklist for tomorrow and the next day and the next day. I guess realizing I have such little time left has lit a fire under my butt to get something done everyday. I now empathize with housewives; there is always something to do. Whether it's getting the pool from a mossy green color to clear water or taking the cat to get fixed, it's an endless list.
Who knows if any of it really matters in the long run. But the moments before the day gets going, when I'm on the back porch in the morning drinking coffee and watching Cedar run after the kittens in the yard, and the moments when the sun is setting and I'm in the hammock or watering the plants, I feel most at peace. I'm rested and I'm at my happiest when I'm sweaty or dirty from a good day of being fully present in the big things and the small things.
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