Day Six of rehab, fifty-nine years old and hopeful

wild grape vine: play toy of a border collie; Christmas tree lights reflected on the window


This picture shows exactly the status of things.  One can see the barbed wire of nature (wild grape vine) that mysteriously appeared on my front lawn just the other day, brought by our canine wonder, Ali.  It is sitting on top of the icy snow.  She had gotten frustrated at the fact that she couldn’t find the ball or Frisbee that she plays with.  She likes to hide toys in the yard and retrieve them for play.  She is ten and still plays like a puppy.  Her frustration led her to go up to the fence and rip down wild grapevine and pull it from the back to the front and play with it.  As I have said, there is always a reason for the things that happen.  I truly have some obsessive compulsive attributes, one of them being I don’t like a mess on my front lawn.  I haven’t removed the vine, though.  It is perhaps a subconscious reminder of what has been going on in our household.  It is something we have to deal with, the purity of the snow surrounding that annoying, clingy vine makes me feel that despite the evil web that surrounded our son, that we shall see spring and with it the hope of a new and better day.  So, for now, there it stays.

The night brought us at least six inches of snow.  I had quickly gone out when I sent Ali out last night before going to bed and started shoveling the two or so inches of fluffy snow on the drive.  I figured that I would be off the hook today, probably have nothing to do.  I paid no attention to the meteorologist’s reports as I have little faith in them.  It was a bit of a surprise to me this morning as I headed toward the front of the house to see that my son’s plow was attacking the six or so inches (more in some spots) that covered our drive and walkway. I was so thankful for that, especially knowing that he must be more than exhausted from a very early morning of plowing and that maybe he was headed home for some needed rest.  As I am proofing this now, I know that that supposition was wrong as I have seen his pickup truck go back and forth several times in my neighborhood, so much for rest!

Mary Kay is already sweetly haranguing me about the fact that it is my birthday, reminding me that my birthday dinner celebration should be put off until Mikey gets home.  My birthday is a family joke of sorts, always has been.  For some reason, I am a real holiday, birthday person.  I guess that since as a child I always felt overlooked by so many, that I clung to the idea that perhaps my birthday would be special.  Unfortunately, I chose poorly as it is on the day after Christmas.  Everyone knows of my sensitivity, but let’s be honest, who is interested in celebrating again the day after Christmas?  It doesn’t matter how we plan, it is always a strange sort of let down and invariably the plans are left to the wayside.   Mary Kay doesn’t really believe that I am finally resigned to its being the way it is, but I am.  I want it to be more special to me but realize it cannot be. 

My birthday feelings go way back to my youth.  My mom, despite the diminutive size of the house we lived in and the almost non-existent dining area, almost always had the Christmas celebration.  Her entire family came, aunts and uncles, grandparents, etc.  We usually had turkey, as I recall, and I was always working, even at a very young age, setting the table, etc.  I remember fondly having to go down to the basement and set out the heaters so that we wouldn’t freeze when we sat down to Christmas dinner.   My mom didn’t receive a whole lot of help; virtually everything was made in her tiny kitchen, so when my aunt offered to make my birthday cake, my mom always accepted.  My aunt always made a cake that appealed to my uncle with little thought of what I might like, so that only added to the feeling that I was just an oversight. 

It is around nine o’clock in the morning and it has already been a full day.  Despite having my drive plowed, I still had a lot to do as I had to clean off a car in order to shovel around it!  It is not in the garage, there being no room in it at the moment, so I shoveled around it, cleaned it off and shoveled some more.  The snow, in the backyard is mounded to about thirty-six inches or so, taller than Samantha.  It took some time to get that clean and the walkways as well.  Now I am cold as the result of the early morning workout is taking effect.

We decided early on that our family trauma was going to be a part of the blog.  Initially, I had thought to not include it since perhaps some privacy would be helpful.  I am not and never shall be one to play the hiding game with stuff like this, so our so-called “dirty wash” is being displayed for all.  I mentioned it to Mikey that part of his rehab is going to be to read my entries.  He needs to know what was going on in all of our minds.

Because of the blog and because of the communications we have had via other vehicles with those we know, we have received an outpouring of wishes that are so much appreciated.  Last night Mary Kay’s cousin called, we hadn’t even realized that he had been reading all along.  This is just one example of how we are able to get through this, a note here, a message there, a phone call, an e-mail, all hugs of understanding that we are not alone in dealing with this and that we shall see another bright day.  The messages we keep receiving are taking a horrible nightmare and allowing us to see that there is a light at the end of the tunnel.  I continue to even receive messages from my French friends, having found out that they too are reading my blog.

Yesterday, I even spoke to a university classmate of Mikey’s who has been busy getting on with his life and not as active in Mikey’s life as before.  He, like everyone else, has offered to do whatever he can.  He and Mikey share the love of the outdoors; they did climbing, hiking, all sorts of things together.  H e is even involved in his love of the outdoors in his actual profession and is now employed by the university they attended as an instructor for the contract year.  He has some ideas for some outings and even some therapeutic good times together in the near future.  Mikey’s one great desire, as he explained it to us, is to put on his hockey skates and go skating, something he had put aside and never should have.

We haven’t yet spoken to him today, but I know he is better.  I am going to have a wonderful birthday!

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One response to “Day Six of rehab, fifty-nine years old and hopeful

  1. Pingback: 2010 in review « Thoughts of a pretired French Teacher

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