The last five days I was with my mother at her retirement home. I have so many mixed emotions when I visit. I miss Dad who died in April. I have gotten to know many of the residents and staff and enjoy spending time with them. I worry about Mom who has early Alzheimer’s. I am surrounded by childhood memories.
This weekend I was helping to move Mom down the hall to a smaller apartment. My girls and their spouses and toddlers came in on Saturday to help. It was chaos that was efficient. The men moved the big furniture pieces with ease. The toddlers bounced on the bed mattress and played with a basket full of toys and generally screamed as toddlers do. I was grateful for the help. After they left I worked on organizing, culling, and hanging paintings and photographs. By the time I left yesterday, Mom was settled and happy in her new space.
All that is really beside the point of the photo today. In the midst of mayhem and moving, I walked with Mom to Dad’s tree. We had a sycamore tree planted on the grounds. Mom loves going out to visit the tree. It has already grown about 2 feet in three months. It’s not even close to the height of the surrounding pines, but there is something serene and strong about it.
Have you ever planted a memorial tree?
Summerhouse Beaux Ridge Independent Living
In the face of storms and sun,
Margaret Simon, draft
you stand, grow, reach
for the heavenly space
where God is good.
Reflections on the Teche 