by James M. Jackson
For the last two months I have been consumed by changing
residences. First, we decided to buy a place in Madison, Wisconsin to replace
our winter residence in Savannah, GA. Closing was scheduled for the end of
December. In December my mother chose to show her enthusiasm for my plan to live
closer to her by falling and breaking her hip. Surgery repaired the break, and before
Christmas, she moved to a rehab facility.
Jan and I drove to Madison to spend Christmas with Mom,
leaving earlier than we had anticipated in order to avoid snow storms pummeling
the Midwest. It was the first time in years Mom had her three children together
with her for Christmas.
The purchase of our place in Madison occurred on time, but
not without drama. I’ve put that trauma behind me and won’t reopen the scabs.
We camped out at our place in Madison, sleeping on a blow-up bed, long enough to
bring in the New Year with Mom. Then we returned to Savannah.
By mid-January, it became clear that Mom’s rehab was not
going to progress sufficiently to allow her to walk again, which meant we’d
have to move her from her very nice Assisted Living apartment into a Nursing
Home.
My sisters found the right place for her. I came back to
Madison to do the heavy lifting—literally: moving from her apartment to her new
room her favorite recliner, clothes, toiletries, etc. I brought the remaining
pictures, mementoes, and books to store in my recently-acquired basement.
Everything else I schlepped to various charities to find new appreciative
owners.
Mom’s 95th birthday was January 31st, so I
remained in the area for the celebration (we had a pizza party) with my sisters
and then headed back to Savannah. My first task there was to help select a
mover to get our stuff from Savannah to Madison. We’ll let them pack the
fragile stuff, but we’re packing everything else. But first, we went through
our possessions to determine what wouldn’t go with us, donating the excess to
charities if there was value, filling trash cans where there was none.
This coming Monday is packing day; Tuesday they load the
truck. We’re getting low on rations in the house. Wednesday night was our last
“traditional” meal. Later meals become a feast of leftovers. No more grocery
shopping unless it’s something vitally important. On Tuesday, Jan announced her
grocery list: Wine and bread. Both met the vitally important criterium.
“Aha,” I said, recalling a long-forgotten lesson from high
school. “A jug of wine, a loaf of bread, and thou.” I stopped, puzzled.
“There’s something else about a wilderness in there, too.” Google came to my
rescue.
From “The Rubaiyat” by Omar Khayyam (as translated), the
line goes: “. . . A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou Beside me singing in
the Wilderness . . .”
Yep, that about sums it up: Jan and I are off to our next
adventure in living, singing our fool heads off. At least we have the wine and
bread.
***
James
M. Jackson authors the Seamus McCree mystery series. Empty Promises, the fifth novel in the series—this one set in the
deep woods of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula—is now available. You can sign up for
his newsletter and find more information about Jim and his books at https://jamesmjackson.com.
On the road again! Enjoy your new life in Madison. I visited once for a summer wedding at the botanical garden. Loved it.
ReplyDeleteThanks Margaret -- this does mean that Cincinnati is no longer "one the way" between summer and winter abodes.
ReplyDeleteBest of luck, Jim!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Linda.
ReplyDeleteLife is full of new adventures for those who decide to seek them! I hope you love Madison!
ReplyDeleteThanks, KM. That's the plan!
ReplyDelete