Time out from entropy

The corn is mostly in here. On the way to Mt. Horeb, Wisconsin a week ago I stopped to look at this field with its big cylinders of silage scattered as if by a big hand. I may have to make this one black and white and see what happens.

It rained, and rained and rained during the last couple days and we all took shelter. Last night I went to my mother's and helped her with the infernal cat box and had a glass of wine with her. Thanks to the miracles of medication which competes with alcohol for the same receptors, my mother can again have a glass of wine without doing a face plant on the bathroom floor. For a while it was a wonderful conversation, talking about therapy and what it means to me, and to my mom, who ran a classroom of the most disturbed kids in Wichita for 12 years. It was based on Glasser, and involved group therapy every day with the kids. Mom was amazing with those kids, and some of them were still stopping by, as adults to check on her or ask advice, when she finally had to move. Those that arent' in prison, that is.

For an hour, Mom and I had a great conversation that didn't involve Alzheimer's Disease, the elephant in the room. Then, as though to remind us, Mom's ideas and thoughts began to repeat themselves. The interlude was over too soon.

When I don't wish for other fates for her, which I have tried to train myself not to do, I am grateful for these interludes, which still allow us to enjoy each other. I am grateful that Mom can still enjoy a glass or two of wine and feel normal. I am grateful that she remembers us and can still excercise that enormous mind. I'm grateful that she doesn't, for a while, feel any different than she ever did. She still gives great hugs, too.