The Home

Mom is ninety seven years old. I've known her for almost seventy years. Okay, maybe I've known her, but I didn't catch on to her until I was an adult. I look at her and realize that if I live to be ninety seven, that is pretty much what I will be. Bad knees, bad feet, hard of hearing, and kind of cranky at times. I actually have the cranky down already. So Mom gave up driving seven years ago, lost my dad nineteen years ago, and about a year and a half ago lost her right to live all by herself in her own house. We had to hire a lady to come and live with her because Mom fell and couldn't get up one night. Since that first 'lady friend', Mom has gone through eleven of them. They come and go. Some have been wonderful and others, not so good. They have left for various reasons, I think one reason is that Mom gaslights the ones she doesn't like. She likes the helper ladies who let her do whatever the hell she wants, and makes faces and little verbal jabs about the ladies who are too strict. So we've reached the point where we think Mom should be living in a more... ummm... structured environment. Not an old folks home, but kind of an old folks home. A place where old folks can be watched over. Oh, okay. An old folks home. We're considering a place not far from where she lives now. She'll have her own apartment with a kitchen and the freedom to come and go, as long as she doesn't wander off grounds. Just outside her door will be a nurse. The place has a restaurant where she can go hangout, a theater, outdoor garden, and game room. We took her there for a visit so she could get a look at what it was like. Mom was very quiet on that visit. It seems that she does not want to live in an 'Old people's home'. She doesn't want to live with those old people. What Mom wants is to live with one of her children. She has told me so. So I went down the line.

"Do you want to live in Florida with Dave?"

"Oh no. That's so far away."

"Okay, what about Peggy?"

Mom made a face.

"Rick smokes cigars. My dad smoked cigars. I never liked it."

I continued down the line. Alaska? No. In a high rise downtown? No.

And on and on, I went through all my brothers and sisters. Then it got quiet for a moment.

"I had a dream last night."

"A good dream?" I asked.

"No. It was a crappy dream."

"Crappy? How?"

"I had another dream."

So I wasn't going to hear about the crappy dream.

"I dreamed I went to live with you and Mark."

There was a long pause. Mom had a little smile on her face.