I don’t know why but I’m shaking. This morning when I got up I had pain across my mid back. I’ve been in for tests this week.
I kept this information about my doctor’s visits and tests out of my conversation with my mom, when I called her a couple of days ago. I hadn’t called her in two weeks.I try to call every week.She will definitely have noticed, but she didn’t comment.
I didn’t mention my health, or my job. My mom has a very common sense approach. Namely, you have to put up with some things.
I had a more open conversation with my sister the next day. She told me she was on her way to see our mother. I suspect only the essentials were communicated.
“Would you like some freshly ground pepper with that?” Denny interrupts my thoughts.
“Yes please,” I smile up at him. It’s Saturday morning again and he has fried eggs for me.
“No thank you. This looks amazing,” two eggs, buttered toast and grilled tomatoes. Who could ask for more?
I’ve been boosting my energy with extra sugar lately. Chocolate ice cream every day this week after work. It is an almost unthinkable indulgence, after years of restraint.
“I have no clean jeans,” Denny announces a few minutes later.
“I think there is a pair in the dryer.”
I’ve definitely been preoccupied if I haven’t taken the clothes out of the dryer after a week.
I have a big report I’m preparing for Tuesday. Looks like more overtime without pay.
Going through some paperwork earlier, at home, I found a letter from my mom.
“Good morning Rosi and Denie (sometimes she misspells our names)
It is a good day. i see your Burty is drowing nir. Dennys is Pest. Wethout. (I think she means without her sending a card.) but. Love coms in all diffrent shpes in sizeses and we all groing older day by day but Tho the outword man parash de inword is Rinuwd so we live from day to day wht Joye and hope and endurans. Tanke you Deni & Rosie for it all. Happy Burthde.”
From time to time I get a letter of encouragement from her. I cherish these letters. Considering my mom taught herself to write English, her letter writing is pretty amazing.
There is always a cheque enclosed with her letters. She told me on the phone she was not able to get out of the house in time to buy birthday cards, so she just sent a letter.
“What would you like this day to look like?” Denny asks me.
“Pretty much like what it looks like now.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I grin at him.
We need to make plans. It’s the weekend. Denny likes to know what to expect. Even if it’s nothing.
I’m perfectly fine with staying home and writing.
Denny thinks that’s fine too.