Now we have another year

Now we have a year until the hoopla begins again. The commercials that tell us what we need, what would be the perfect gift. The carols will begin as soon as the turkey has been gobbled up. Some will delight in it. Some will feel the stress of creating the perfect holiday. Some will miss their loved ones. I have experienced all of those. As a child I delighted in it. As a mother, I wanted to create that magic for my child and experienced the stress. Now, I miss my loved ones.

Certainly, Covid has more missing loved ones who have died or staying away from family in order to stay safe. Some are estranged from family for a variety of reasons. I feel for all of the above, but can related first hand to those estranged. I follow some of the helpful tips for taking care of oneself during the holidays when you are estranged. I find it’s best for me to try and act like it is just another day. Otherwise, I fantasize that someone in my family might reach out. I fantasize that this will be the year we try to listen to each other, to heal our wounds.

I did spend part of the day on Christmas with my unexpected family at the hotel. A resident got a roast from his employer. I roasted it in a crock pot, it came out pretty good. Then I headed up the mountain where I am cat sitting. My car didn’t make it up the steep hill. Fortunately, my clients left their car for me at a neighbors down the hill. I was able to swap cars in time to feed the cats and snuggle in.

As I settled in for the night, I couldn’t help but wonder if my daughter had a peaceful holiday, what my grandkids got as gifts, did they feel the magic?Truthfully, they were on my mind and in my heart when I woke up on Christmas morning, as I roasted the chuck roast and shared it with housemates and as I laid my head down for the night. I felt a sadness as my housemate thanked me for my efforts, sad my child and grandchildren are unable to receive the love and care I have to give.

I dreamt last night of my family gathering for the holidays, laughing and hugging. But I was not in the dream, only an onlooker.

Today, I count my blessings for the many supportive and loving friends in my life, for the parents who continue to trust me with the care of their children, the pet owners who leave the care of their pets and homes in my hands, for my house mates who make a point of thanking me for the cooking and cleaning I do at the hotel, for Robert, who owns the hotel and makes a point of thanking me for all I do. They are a large part of my strength.

I am thankful.

Thanks as always for reading.

Stories Help Us to Understand

Robert came to Missoula in 1979, and shortly after bought the hotel. I mentioned in an earlier blog, that recently I have had the opportunity to get to know him, learn his habits and some of the reasons behind them.
At the end of this summer, he was walking downtown and was hit be a car. We learned about it when he was brought back home after a visit to the emergency room, showing us stitches along one calf.
As several of us circled around him, checking for other injuries, he insisted he was fine. In fact, after he was hit, he told the policeman he would just walk home. Thankfully, the policeman insisted that ambulance take him to the hospital.
They gave him a strong pain killer and I believe he was full of adrenaline. He insisted on climbing up the ladder to his loft bed in spite of our conclave presenting our best arguments. I in turn, insisted on sleeping in the room across the hall from him as it is kept as a guest room. One of the guys brought him something to pee into. As Robert raised a hammer, he reminded us that he and John who lives in the room directly above him, have a system. If Robert has an emergency, needs help in the middle of the night, he bangs on the radiator with the hammer. That was the signal for John to come running.
Sure’nuf around four in the morning, the banging started. John and I flew into his room. Robert, blurry eyed, stared down at us asking for help in getting down from the loft.
After he came back from the restroom, John and I stepped into the hall as Robert changed his clothes. But he hollered for help. He fell as he was changing pants and couldn’t get up. “That’s it.” I said, “you are sleeping in the room across the hall from now on.” It has a twin bed that is not a loft. He didn’t argue this time.
Thankfully, I had a break in my house/pet sitting jobs for a few weeks and could give Robert the attention he needed. I mean it’s something for anyone to be hit by a car, but even more so when you are 82 years old.
During the first week, the ankle on the leg that didn’t have stitches continued to swell up and it was painful for him to walk. After carefully nudging, I took him back to the ER. Yep, he had a fracture and needed to wear an orthopedic boot.
We spent quiet mornings visiting, drinking coffee and getting some food in him. Robert is a very independent person and has his routine. He is used to getting out everyday for a walk and his card game with friends. He appreciated my company.
I got to hear stories of his childhood in Holland during World War II. How his father buried a car, I suppose to keep the enemy from confiscating it, then unearthing it after the war. How they went without water. “That’s why I have bottles of water stored up, it’s terrible to not have water” he told me. Now, I understood, why his empty juice bottles were filled with water and tucked away.

I love that stories, listening help us to understand each other and our ways. Stories bring us closer, they open our hearts.

Robert is well on the mend. He and a fellow house mate took off yesterday for a trip to Spokane. I miss our quiet story telling mornings. However, we do go out for lunch, take a walk and I still make him oatmeal in the morning every now and then.

Thanks for reading.