I'm in Columbia this weekend, my mom is dying. She's 95, God bless her, and her systems are starting to shut down. She can't swallow (stroke) and her veins won't take an IV. When you are with her, she isnt' really aware that you are in the room. Not on any conscious level, anyway. But I talk to her and we talk about the old times when Micky and James and I used to play basketball in the back yard. But you had to be carefull because there the roots would cause the ball to dribble funny! And I talk about how I sound just like my daddy when I get tired and grunt and groan when getting up from sitting in chair. And how good a gardner she was, tending to her Choleas on the back patio, and how I gave her a book in 1975 called "The Secret Life of Plants." And when I said that, I noticed just the slightest flicker of recognition, like "Yes, son, I remember that."
:: Tom 9:40 AM [+] ::
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:: Wednesday, November 16, 2005 ::
Then, Oh, that magic feeling, no place to go...That's about the way it is every day. I wake up and there's no place I have to be, no one I have to see. As long as the money and the adderall don't run out, my life is magic! Me and the Pooch (Sniffles P. Love, seen above) run out for breakfast every morning. She get's so excited to go for a ride! Eventually she settles down in the back seet, only to perk up at the drive thru! She starts drooling the moment the loud speaker asks for our order. If it's brunch (after 11:00) she gets a cheesburger, plain with noth8ing on it. If it's early she'll share some of my sausage biscuit. And then as we approach home, she gets all excited again, bounding out of the car even before I turn the enging off. It's our morning ritual, me and the pooch.
:: Tom 10:25 PM [+] ::
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