A flash of lightning from Wednesday night
Last night the lightning cracked, the thunder roared, and the cats all ran for cover as the rain drenched every exposed surface. Eventually, though, the clouds moved on, and only then did the real show begin. Flash, zip, rolling light across the sky, it went on and on and on. One by one we all came out on to the deck, the driveway, the patio, pulled by the flashes and bolts lighting up the sky. None of us had ever seen anything like it. We jumped in surprise, we squealed, we sucked in our breath over and over again. It was spectacular.
My mother cannot stand thunder; too many Wyoming and Colorado storms under her belt to find any interest in that. But, the thunder was gone, and all that was left was this cosmic light show. I went and knocked on her door, took her by the hand and led her out to the patio where we stood for twenty minutes of awe and wonder.
I feel this urgency to have my mother by my side right now. I want her to see beauty, I want to hold her hand. You see, my mom is sick. We don't know what is wrong, but she is in the hospital today.
This has, once again, caught me off guard. I have to accept that I am never ready for my mother to be unwell, I am never ready for bad news. I am afraid, to be honest, but, we will do as we always do in times of stress: pray, put one foot in front of the next, pray some more, and wait. The waiting is hard, but there are no answers yet.
My stress reading list includes: At Home in Mitford, 84 Charing Cross Road, and Nathan Coulter. Time for some comfort reading. Mitford and Charing Cross are ones my mother recommended, so we will share our favorite passages as we read side-by-side. I've never read Nathan Coulter, but he's an old friend from other Wendell Berry favorites. Those lilting words will be the perfect accompaniment for the waiting chair in room 203.
Mom with Claire on a better day.
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