Early in the morning, Mom crept into my bedroom and crawled into bed beside me.
“Did you look outside?”
“I did, Mom. It’s really pretty out there, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Silence.
“Let’s go back to my room. It’s prettier in there.”
“Your eyes are closed. How do you know it’s prettier?”
She tugged me out of bed.
In her room, we sat in her bed, propped up against her headboard, looking out over the front yard, the street, the majestical trees, all covered with snow, and soft, clumpy flakes continuing to fall from the sky.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is, Mom. It is.”
There are hard moments. And there are magical moments like this.
It was hard to choose just one. And it was so fun looking through my photo library and reliving past trips and fun moments with friends. But this one is one of my absolute favorites.
Dad and Mom in Italy
This was summer 2015, and I had joined Mom and Dad in Italy for a couple of weeks. It was on this trip that we noticed that something wasn’t quite right with Mom. At first we thought she was joking with us. At restaurants, she would order, and when we were served, she would say, “I didn’t order this. I ordered that,” and she would point to either my or Dad’s plate. We would switch, thinking she was joking. But she wasn’t laughing. When I would get gelato for us, I’d come back with three cones, and she’d insist that she didn’t ask for the flavor I handed her, but one of our cones. And in the evening, we’d talk about our plans for the next day, and less than five minutes later, she’d ask, “What are the plans for tomorrow?”
I took Dad aside and asked if he noticed anything unusual. It was then that he shared she had wandered off while they were in Belgium, and he and the police spent hours looking for her. He was at a loss with what to do. We talked about resources they could access once they were back home. And this picture embodies the life they shared for 60 years, full of love and adoration for each other.
My read books are arranged by color; it’s so calming to look at shelves with books in order by shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, black, and white, as well as by size, largest on the left to smallest on the right. And then there’s half a shelf with unread books stacked horizontally. So that when I’m done with a book, the “next in queue” are easy to spot, and I can choose based on what mood I’m in.
With so much fresh, powdery snow, we couldn’t miss the opportunity to make snow cream. It’s part of the magic of snow days in the south. You take what has fallen from the sky and turn it into the most delectable sweet treat ever made.
Secretly, longingly, I hoped that making snow cream would trigger memories for Mom. We had made snow cream during the few big storms of my childhood. Would that be far enough back that she might remember?
As we finished our chicken noodle soup, I asked her if she’d like to do something special. She stared at me, not really comprehending what I was asking. “We’re going to make snow cream!” She continued to stare. “Like ice cream! Sweet and cold!” When she heard “ice cream” she got up. I pointed to her bedroom slippers. “You’ll need to put on shoes that cover all your feet.” She said, “Oh, yes,” and walked into the living room. “They’re by the stairs, Mom.” She started towards the fireplace. I followed her and gently touched her arm. “This way, Mom.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.”
In the kitchen, I set out what we’d need: a large bowl, a wooden spoon, vanilla, and a can of sweetened condensed milk.
Getting ready to make snow cream
On the back porch we knocked the icy top off of the mound of snow, then began scooping the powdery fluff into a bowl. Always better to have too much than not enough, so I filled it full.
Fresh snow!
Back in the kitchen, we sprinkled vanilla over the top, then began pouring sweetened condensed milk over the mound of snow.
Adding vanilla and sweetened condensed milk
Then we stirred, and stirred, and stirred.
Stirring and stirring and stirring
And then the finished product! Perfection!
A bowl of fresh snow cream
Yum, yum, yum!
Sadly, this didn’t dislodge distant memories for Mom. She kept saying, “This is so good. I’ve never had this before!” And as soon as I washed the bowls, she came into the kitchen, asking for some more of the cold white stuff. All in all, a win.
I remember being asked this question in RA (Resident Assistant) training my junior year of college. My answer hasn’t changed in the 30+ years since.
I’d love to be able to speak every language in the world fluently. Can you imagine the connection that would happen if you could communicate with every person you met? Not just transactional conversations, but sharing jokes, understanding humor. Asking for or giving directions. Offering comfort. The ease at which visitors would feel, hearing their language spoken. This would be the most magical power of all.
And one that I’ve thought about more and more over the past few years: systems to support the aging population in the US. This wasn’t top of mind until I became my Mom’s guardian. And as I have navigated everything on her behalf, I have to wonder how people (especially aging persons with dementia) address this if they don’t have an advocate. I am incredibly grateful that we have resources to make this easier. Before I became her guardian, I was living close by. My father had the foresight to procure long term care insurance that mitigates the financial burden of care. I live in a city with a large retired population which has incredible healthcare resources. And as I’ve navigated this, I’ve noticed that caretaking generally falls to a child or another family member. What happens if there isn’t a child or family member?
It’s not just logistics. What about quality of life? Making sure that there’s a place they can call home. That is safe. That is stimulating. With healthy food. That may have been what assisted living facilities set out to provide when they were conceived. And COVID exposed the limitations of those facilities. One of the most dehabilitating factors for someone with dementia is isolation. And that’s what COVID forced upon folks in assisted living facilities. So. Much. Isolation. I understand they were doing the best they could with the information at hand. The isolation, though, was one of, if not the main, reason I decided to move Mom in with me. And had I known at the time how difficult it would be, I may have thought twice about that decision. But it makes me wonder what will happen when I reach that stage. And what options will be available.
What is a life lesson you feel everyone can benefit from learning?
Be curious. There’s usually more to learn. Ask questions, focusing on understanding. “Why?,” as in “Why did you do that?” will often result in defensiveness. “Walk me through how you got to this decision…” invites conversation and an opportunity to learn a person’s thought process.
My team teases me that my favorite thing to say is, “I’m curious…” then I ask a question. It’s true, though, I am curious! 🙂
The big news is that Izzy is coming to town. Over the past few days we’ve heard we’d get a dusting of snow, 3 – 6 inches, 12 – 18 inches, or even 24 inches. That’s a pretty wide range. It honestly doesn’t matter. Regardless of how much we get, things will essentially shut down. And I’m kind of looking forward to it.
There’s something magical about a snow day. About waking up, looking outside, and seeing everything transformed, covered in a blanket of white. Quiet. As if the covering of snow dampens sounds, a hush encompassing the world.
Snow days as a child were an adventure. We didn’t have many, but the ones that we had were doozies. We often lost power during snow storms. When I was maybe seven or eight, there was one storm where the power was out for a week. And I loved it. We huddled in our den, the room closed off to the rest of the house to conserve heat, wood stove burning. We each had multiple quilts and blankets that we snuggled under, the weight of the blankets providing comfort. We cooked our meals in a dutch oven in the wood burning stove. Soup and bread. With snow cream for dessert. Snow, vanilla, and sweetened condensed milk. And the belief that snow could be transformed into the most delicious treat ever with a few stirs. We read during the day and talked at night or played board games by candlelight. I was sad when the electricity returned. I loved being together in our cocoon.
We’re ready as we can be for the weather this weekend. The pantry is stocked, there are flashlights (with new batteries) and candles in each room, the gas fireplace is working, blankets are easily accessible, all devices are charged.
And there’s a large bowl ready to put out on the back deck, ready to catch a fresh bowl of snow for snow cream, if we should be so lucky.
The day starts by waking up naturally and well-rested. I love having visitors, so the house will be full of friends. We’ll drink tea and coffee in our pajamas and talk, lounging about. Someone suggests breakfast (though by this time it’s likely brunch), and several of us will head to the kitchen to make waffles, eggs, bacon, toast, and a fruit salad with fresh mint from the herb garden. We’ll eat on the deck, warmed by the sun, conversation flowing easily and lots of laughter. So much laughter. Afterwards, we’ll get ourselves together, and head to the mountains for a hike, marveling at the blue in the Blue Ridge Mountains and enjoying a waterfall or two. We’ll come back home, order in some barbecue (likely Luella’s), share a nice bottle of wine, then sit on the front porch, chatting and watching the fireflies light up. We’ll stay there til we can’t keep our eyes open, then head to bed, ready to enjoy another perfect day in the morning.
Ooh! Dancing emojis are my favorite. Dancing panda, dancing monkey, dancing Pikachu. It seems these may be custom for our Slack instance, so I’ve pasted a screenshot here:
Dancing emojis!
Also anything that seems to be happy. The bouncing rainbow sheep. The joyous pig.
Happy emojis
Though this ages me, I also do love the crying/laughing emoji. 😂
LoriLoo 