So Long

It's been so long between posts that most of my blogging buddies would view a post title of  So Long as a final farewell. Actually, my mother has sold her house, and I have spent much of the last eight weeks helping her relocate.

First, I found my mother a beautiful apartment that is a hop, skip, and a jump from the senior center where she participated in exercise classes during last winter's stay with us. Several of the ladies there convinced her to join their Red Hat group. And my elderly neighbor has been introducing her to other local activities and attractions. My mother has even achieved a level of comfort navigating the country roads between my home and hers. Not bad for an eighty-two-year-old!!

Harder by far was the process of completing repairs requested by the buyer, sorting of fifty years of belongings and memories, and donating or discarding things, so that my mother could distill much of her old existence into a packable start of a new life.

So much stuff... What tales I could tell about the once-lovely piano fallen into neglect... the 1950s freezer that turned once-edible walleye into permafrost... the questionable photo chemicals left to fester in the homemade darkroom that lost its light... of Roy, Arleen, Lorenzo1100, Pat, Joan, Linda, Paul, the two Toms, Vivien, Ms Martine, the photo teacher at Laurel School, the three guys at the Goodwill Attended Donation Center (Tractor Trailer), and my favorite new haunt, the Pepperpike Recycling and Drop-off Center.

I can say without a qualm (and after witnessing my mother's mental anguish and physical stress) that architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe had it right when he stated, "Less is more."

One final note...

On the eve of my last return to my childhood home, I took Smoke to be euthanized. He had started to defecate throughout the house. Otherwise the task would have fallen to my son in my absence, and I couldn't do that to him. So, Señor drove me to the vet's and stood by my side as I stroked Smoke's head, soothing him as he took his last breath. A very gentle end to a long, happy life.

So long, Smoke. You are sadly missed.