My son, my mother and me
I went for a beautiful new walk with Apple. I know how lucky we are to live here, but this kind of thing reminds me. We walked along the edge of woodlands, past rolling fields full of horses, swans, ducks, through forests, along lanes lined with primroses and daffodils, past fabulous houses and burbling brooks. Peaceful, warm, and sunny.
When I left, Ma was forlorn. She got up late. She struggles every morning to get up. Some mornings are even worse than others. None are good. This morning was especially bad. She appeared just before 12. I was busy. At 1 I went off with Apple. I am sorry. But I have to live my life. I will be back soon. When I return she is angry. She has been asleep on the uncomfortable sofa in her bedroom, twisted. She could have laid down on the bed and been comfortable. All afternoon I am busy and I don’t sit with her. I do call in on her, make her a cup of coffee, take her out in the car, but she is not living her life. She said she wants to die. Every night she prays for death.