Friday, May 6, 2011


I walk briskly towards my mountains while I try to shut down my thoughts. I inhale the mountain's peace and stability. Silence permeates all. The barren view is luscious to me. Leroy, my canine companion gives me a little tug as if he wants recognition for motivating me to give up my preferred sedentary life style. But, he retreats to his own meditation and leaves me to struggle to maintain inner silence. I fail. Recollections begin to flow.

"Are these my pills? Is this my coffee?" she says every morning as she attempts to see what is clearly intended for her. "Who else would they be for? They're right in front of you." That would be the impulsive sarcastic reply. I always refrain. Common sense abandoned her long ago and I no longer use sarcasm. It would be cruel.

I then start thinking about life and it's strange twists. Here I am caring for this lady, whom I barely know. During early childhood I thought she was just a relative, an aunt maybe. As I grew a little older, I wanted a real mother more than anything. All my friends had loving, caring Moms. In an attempt to transform her, one Mother's Day I bought her some flowers. Surely, she would love these, I thought. But instead when I presented them, she flung them furiously across the room. Why had I spent money on such frivolity?

This lady and I have changed a lot since then, though our relationship never transformed into ...

I pass a dead coyote which Leroy tries to sniff. I make a twist on our path then focus again on the mountains. They tell no story. They only rest in stillness, witnessing this now. I breathe again and try once more to imitate them. I exhale the past.


  1. it is hard to be that mountain...though we try...i am glad she has you...and take time not to be the mountain so you can be refreshed...

  2. You provide a vivid portrait of your challenged care giving. Poignant imagery.

  3. My God, Darling! It's hard enough caring for a mother who is now impaired but with whom you have cherished memories. I'm sorry your memories have thorns! You are so strong Myrna. I admire you more than you know. You are a better woman that I will ever be.

  4. "when I presented them, she flung them furiously across the room. Why had I spent money on such frivolity?"

    I guess she wanted chocolate, eh? This made me think of my equally frugal father who was equally ungracious about gifts he didn't like. When he died, I kept his ashes in the hall closet for three years in the box they were mailed in (I held onto them because I couldn't decide where to scatter them). When, during a visit, I told my mother-in-law about the ashes being there, she became very upset because, as she saw it, I was too cheap to buy a proper container for my dear departed father. Little did she know that he would have come back and haunted me forever had I "wasted" money on something like that.

  5. Myrna, I hear you. You are a strong and brave woman and I am so happy to have you as a friend. That memories are not always pleasant is seen here. Afterall memories are a mixed bag. You are surely blessed.

    Joy always,

  6. Warm Saturday Aloha from Waikiki

    Comfort Spiral




  7. This was so beuatiful and so sad at the same time...
    I follow your thinking and the way thoughts enter our head, when we are relaxed and surrounded by stillness and beauty.
    Life is hard and unfair, but all we can give it in return is our goodness. That will make us soar like eagles despite the pain inside.
    Letting go of the past is the only way to be free.
    Loved this post dear Myrna,

  8. Beautiful and sad. Life. Well said, friend.