nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Time keeps on slippin'...

I had a very eloquent entry all typed in and after hitting the "done!" button, was taken to an error page and it was all. gone.

I'm not overly happy about that, as I typed it in as it flowed out of my head and reconstructing something like that just won't work.

Bottom line?

Today was hot and humid, which has turned into a hot and humid night, the sort of night where one flips the pillow trying to find a cool spot and gets tangled in the sheets while tossing and turning restlessly.

The following days are supposed to be more pleasant and that's a good thing.

I'm amazed that with the heat, the boys' energy doesn't flag. We've finally hit the "bored/nothing to do" phase of Summer and I'm handing down the age old tradition of misunderstanding that they mean "nothing FUN to do" as opposed to not having a chore or task to accomplish.

I remember how Summer hours seemed endless, and how it seemed incredibly wrong to be in bed while it was still even remotely light outside. I think I was afraid I'd miss something in those twilight hours, almost as if the most important things in my day would happen just after I'd been put to bed.

As a youngster my favorite part of the day was early, early mornings before the rest of the world had awakened. Something about having a clean slate and an endless list of things to fill it with was appealing to me.

Now, at the tail end of the Summer in my life, I enjoy the evening hours so much more. My time, after tucking the boys into bed and reclaiming it as such, is like invisible velvet. Sinking into the semi-dark with no sounds but the quiet tunes of Norah and Sarah, decompressing and letting the weight of the day slide off..Almost as if God has taken a giant bottle of White-Out and cleared away all the stressors of my day. I like knowing I have nothing more to accomplish but quiet and peace, with no major expectations other than sleep.

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Grams is having a hard go of it in that cruddy nursing home. I hate visiting her there, hate leaving without her. It's harder, I think, than taking care of her every day for several hours was. Some might say it's a saving grace that she forgets we've been there, forgets that we've left her behind not long after the doors close behind us. How cruel it must be, though, to feel abandoned because you can't ever remember anyone coming back for you. That thought haunts me...because I imagine how very confused it must be inside her head now, with nothing familiar to remind her of how very much she's loved. People carry more than a picture or a familiar vase.

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Friday is my mother's birthday. She'll be 53. And Ryan turns 7 in a week. My, how time's speeding by...I'm just trying to keep pace.

Happy Wednesday.

N.

8:31 p.m. - 2004-07-21

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