Simplicity

I love the work I do.  LOVE it.  Sometimes we win and create real substantial change for people.  And then I try to tell Mom about it.  One of the few times when words fail me.  She does not understand the implications of what was accomplished, but she knows I did well and is proud of me.  And she always says Dad would be proud too.

Over time I have come to learn to let that be enough.  When Mom's brain first started failing her and she struggled with understanding my work and fell short, I was hurt.  I would tell her again in a different way, thinking I overexplained what I was saying.  And again she would not understand.  In my incredibly complicated mind, thinking if I break it down enough, she will get it.  I would tell her again.  And again she would not understand.  I would cry and be sad that part of her brain was no longer functioning to its full capacity.

When I stopped complicating this disease, that is when she began teaching me.  Did it really matter that she understood my work?  She is proud of me, incredibly proud.  I can talk for hours about a variety of nothing, she can talk hours about the beauty of a flower.

The time she and I talk on the phone is very precious.  And at times I can find it boring and rather be doing something else.  My mind craves complexity, hers lives in simplicity. I am serious, she now laughs easier, in fact almost all the time.  My serious ass mom is a prankster.  It seems this disease has lifted the load of thinking too much, which I fall prey way too often.

In a couple of days I head home for Thanksgiving.  I hope I can stay out of my head and keep into my heart and find simplicity.

Back at ya, Voyageur.