The Burrow

The real, no longer anonymous, me sitting next to a famous poet. or Suzi Hileman and Billy Collins at the Tucson Literary Society Luncheon February 3, 2011

There are some perks to being perforated.  People reach out and touch you in warm and wonderful ways.  Gifts are delivered, thoughtful soft warm and cozy gifts which show real thought and planning.  And invitations are extended. A friend of Amster's is a member of the Tucson Literary Society.  While I was in the hospital she began reading The Burrow and noticed Billy Collins in the sidebar.  She sent me an email, wondering if I would like to join her at the TLS's luncheon where he would be the featured speaker. Did I want to go?  Oh, yes.  Oh, yes yes yes yes yes  (to paraphrase Molly Bloom).  Would I be able to go?  That was another matter entirely.  But suddenly I had a goal, an event, an occasion to strive toward.  I've been practicing sitting and riding in cars and dressing in more than sweats and a t-shirt and I've been encouraging TBG to consider letting me out of his sight for a few hours and today I had lunch with...

Am I the woman who organizes the meal deliveries and the transportation.... or the one who receives them? Am I the person who devours a book at a single sitting.... or the one whose brain is taxed by Dear Abby? Am I the one bringing laughter and adventure to G'ma.... or the one on the couch receiving her confused and surprised looks of bewilderment as she asks me what happened, again and again and again? Am I the daughter who doesn't mind repeating the story because she is so grateful to have her mother asking the question over and over and over..... or the one who asks her brother to drive Mom back to the pod-castle because I just can't say it one more time? Am I the girl in the gym, pushing the treadmill higher and faster.... or the one who looks at the distance between the couch and the table and opts to stay still? Am I playing 12 games of wordscraper at the same time.... or wondering where my old opponents have gone? Am I the person who sends hand-written t...

Sitting at my desk.  It's a mundane thing.  The view never changes, although the details come and go.  The mountains mark the edge, and today the clouds are pulled up like a blanket, like the soft gushy blanket old friends sent my way, the blanket TBG pulled over me that first night at home, the blanket that put me to sleep for the first time in days.  The blanket that marked the first night of the rest of my life. But these clouds are angrier than that blanket will ever be.. They have grey spots and black spots and I know that they are leaving rain and snow and a cold cold wind on the people of Summerhaven, Summerhaven because it is cooler than our desert in the midst of summer's heat but which is now filled with people who wish they had my blanket.  It looks ominous and scary. There are hummingbirds at this time of year, dashing and feasting and making me smile but the sun is behind those clouds and the birds have taken refuge wherever they go when the gray ...

From the Little Cuter.  Everyone keeps asking how I’m doing. How we’re doing. There is absolutely no correct way to respond. Do you really want to know? Are you interested in the glossed over version? The version we’ve concocted that is shiny, protective… the Teflon version that we’ve created so that we can keep breathing? Because that version I’ve got down pat. We are doing great! Mom is incredible, a superhero, she is recovering at a rate that I can’t even keep track of. Emotionally, physically, spiritually… she is surpassing every expectation given to us from people who are properly educated in gauging their own opinions. 16 weeks of physical recovery? No way, she’ll be back walking in 10. Emotions? Yeah, this is unspeakable, but she’s got 24-hour access to therapists who are trained in walking you through these kinds of things… ..... These kinds of things … those are the kinds of phrases that keep coming out of my mouth, the kinds of phrases that, the second they enter th...

The pod castle sent me flowers.  That was really backwards.  I usually treat them, to cookies or donuts or candies.  After all, they are looking after my mother and you never want to underpay or under-appreciate your babysitter , do you?  But there they were, sitting in the most visible-to-my-eye spot in my hospital room, the trendiest, raffia-wrapped bouquet in the place.  They made me smile. They also reminded me that G'ma was un-visited.  My family was at my bedside and I wasn't in the mood to share.  Amster dropped off Hershey's kisses for her at the pod castle and let the staff know that I hadn't forgotten my maternal unit, but it just wasn't the same as being there myself.  I had been dropping in at random times of the day, both because that's how my life was organized and to keep them on their toes.  If they didn't know when I was coming, G'ma would have to be tended 24/7.  And suddenly I was gone. I had a good reason, but sti...

Remember those pancakes at IHop?  The ones I ate while finishing The Footprints of God?  The smile on my face as I chowed-down was due, in no small part, to something that happened as I entered the restaurant.  Read on, denizens, and see what filled my heart.  Just another reason I love Tucson! *********************************************************** It was late and dark and cold.  I was alone.  I wasn't anxious about my safety, but I consciously chose a parking space close to the entrance, under a light pole and near a family group who were just exiting their car.  I took my time, not wanting to open my door into them.  I collected my wallet and my novel and closed the sunroof.  By the time I beep-locked The Schnozz my safety net people were approaching the door of the restaurant. There were 4 of them - an abuela, a mom and a teenaged boy and girl.  The kids were just a little bit more dressed up than is usual for Tucson teens....