George Tiller is DEAD

gunned down in front of his church this morning. an eye for several thousands of eyes, I guess.

my baby boy will graduate 8th grade this week

last night was the dance. Along with wrestling, throwing balls at one another, and general little big boy stuff, there was some dancing. Sigh.

all that matters

“Blessed are they who have the gift of making friends, for it is one of God's best gifts. It involves many things, but above all, the power of going out of one's self, and appreciating whatever is noble and loving in another.”

Idiots.

I am not alone...thank God.

BORN AGAIN AMERICAN
By Keith Carradine


Just a workin’ man without a job
It got shipped off to China via Washington, D.C.
And I know I’m nothin’ special, there are plenty more like me
Just the same
I thought I knew the rules of the game
I stood up for this country that I love
I came back from the desert to a wife and kids to feed
I’m not sayin’ Uncle Sam should give me what I need
My offer stands
I’ll pull my weight you give me half a chance

I went up to a congressman and said to him “you know
Our government is letting people down”
He said he’d need a lot of help to buck the status-quo
I said there was a bunch of us around

I’m a Born Again American, conceived in Liberty
My Bible and the Bill of Rights, my creed’s equality
I’m a Born Again American, my country ‘tis of me
And everyone who shares the dream from sea to shining sea

My brother’s welding chassis at the plant
He’s earning what our granddad did in 1948
While CEOs count bonuses behind the castle gates
How can they see
When all they care about’s the do re mi

It’s getting where there’s nowhere left to turn
Not since the crash of twenty-nine have things been so unfair
So many of our citizens are living in despair
The time has come
To reaffirm that hope’s not just for some

The promise of America’s surrendering to greed
The rule is just look out for number one
But brace yourself ‘cause some of us have sown a different seed
A harvest of the spirit has begun

I’m a Born Again American conceived in liberty
My Bible and The Bill Of Rights
My creed’s equality
A Born Again American, my country ‘tis of me
And everyone who shares the dream from sea to shining sea

It’s clear my country’s soul is on the line
She’s hungering for something that she lost along the way
The principle the framers called upon us to obey
That in this land
The people’s will must have the upper hand

I felt the calling once before and took a sacred vow
And faithful to that vow I have remained
I hear the calling once again, my country needs me now
And to her cause I have been re-ordained

I’m a Born Again American conceived in liberty
My Bible and the Bill Of Rights, all people living free
A Born Again American, my country ‘tis of me
And everyone who shares the dream
From sea to shining sea
And everyone who shares the dream
From sea to shining sea
A M E R I C A

convergence insufficiency-things you should know

convergence insufficiency, a new term in our little world. I took Ciarra in for some testing recently for school, in effect it is "IQ testing". The Dr that tested her noticed some very odd things in the results, and once she showed me, I saw clearly what she meant. In some parts of the testing, Ciarra got the answers wrong, one test that comes to mind was a keyed box thing where you had to put the coded answer according to the key above into a little box, there were 15 or so little boxes under the key code. Ciarra got them all wrong...sort of. When we looked closer, she had most of them correct, but diagonally wrong by one box, she put them in the box under and to the left of the correct box. But they were for the most part correct, of course she was scored as missing them.

It was a clear indication to the Dr that something was going on with her eyes. Test after test came back as showing visual problems, of course there was plenty she got wrong just because she didnt get the question, etc, but clearly something was up with her eyes.

We had Ciarra tested a year or so ago by an eye doctor who prescribed glasses, and sent us on our way. I have had a strong feeling something more was going on, she just seemed to struggle with reading...not how to read, but the mechanics of how she held her body. It is a bit hard to explain. She always tilted her head while reading, and I have come to recognize that I do the same thing, although I know I am having terrible trouble seeing these days, I thought it was just me.

Turns out, Ciarra and I both have something called convergence insufficiency, also known as exophoria. In all my reading and trying to stay on top of medical issues with DS, I have never heard of this one. Luckily, the doc that did her IQ testing knew of a "developmental eye doc" that does very specific testing. I was honestly stunned to see the difference between regular eye exams and this one. In depth is an understatement. wow.

A few things I learned about CI:

During the act of reading, the demand is for the two eyes to turn inward so that they are aimed at the reading task. If the eyes have a tendency to deviate outward, the child must use excess effort and energy to maintain fixation on the reading task. Most studies have shown that the greater the amount of effort involved in reading, the lower will be the comprehension and the lower will be the performance. When reading, the eyes do not move smoothly over a line of print. Rather, they make a series of fixations looking from word to word. When an exophoria exists, each time fixation is broken and moved to the next word, the eyes will tend to deviate outwards and they must be brought back in to regain fixation. Human nature being what it is, the child generally has an avoidance reaction to the reading task. This is compounded by the fact that anything the child doesn't do well, he would rather not do. This is the child who looks out the window rather than paying visual attention. He is commonly given labels. He is often accused of having a short attention span and not trying. He is told that he would do better if he tried harder, but he has tried harder to no avail. He is often labeled as having dyslexia, minimal brain dysfunction, learning disability, etc. Commonly, he loses his place while reading and/or uses his finger or a marker to maintain his place. While making the eye movements during the act of reading, he might not land on the next word, but rather land a few words further on. Consequently, he commonly omits small words or confuses small words. Often, he just adds a word or two to make the sentence make sense. If the two eyes are pointing at the same point in space, a person will see the fixated object as being single. Double vision or overlapping vision (Figure #3) results if the two eyes are not exactly pointing at the same point. Don't expect a child to tell you that his vision isn't clear. He has no yardstick of comparison to inform him that his vision differs from the vision of anyone else.

A Parent's Checklist
Look for these signs and symptoms.

If you check off several items on the following checklist, consider taking your child for a vision exam.

You observe the following behavior in your child:

one eye drifts or aims in a different direction than the other (look carefully -- this can be subtle). This is significant even if it only occurs when the child is tired or stressed.

turns or tilts head to see

head is frequently tilted to one side or one shoulder is noticeably higher

squinting or closing or covering of one eye

excessive blinking or squinting
short attention span
daydreaming in class
poor handwriting
poor visual/motor skills (often called "hand-eye coordination")

problems moving in space, frequently bumps into things or drops things
clumsiness on playground or at home

While reading or doing close work your child:

holds the book or object unusually close

closes one eye or covers eye with hand

twists or tilts head toward book or object so as to favor one eye

frequently loses place and fatigues easily

uses finger to read

rubs eyes during or after short periods of reading
reversals when reading (i.e., "was" for "saw", "on" for "no", etc.)
reversals when writing (b for d, p for q, etc.)
omitting small words
confusing small words
transposition of letters and numbers (12 for 21, etc.)
loss of place when reading, line to line and word to word.
child's ability to learn verbally surpasses his ability to learn visually.

Your child frequently complains of:

only being able to read for short periods of time
headaches or eyestrain
nausea or dizziness
motion sickness
DOUBLE VISION!
Say no more. If your child reports seeing double, please take your child for a binocular vision evaluation immediately. You are invited to request a free referral at the Directory of Vision Care Providers.

Reading Skills and Binocular Visual Skills
One of the tests used in optometric offices is to have the child read words while looking into an instrument called a Telebinocular. The performance is compared between reading with either eye alone and with both eyes together. The difference in performance is often quite dramatic if there is an eye teaming problem. One eye performance might be quite satisfactory, but reading with both eyes together will be slower and many more errors will be made.

Every child with difficulty reading should be given the Convergence Insufficiency Symptom Survey pdf to see whether convengence insufficiency is contributing to the problem. The mean score for children wtih convergence insufficiency 30 vs. 8.4 (for more info, see here).

The symptoms can include eyestrain, headaches, blurred vision, sleepiness and trouble retaining information when reading. Other symptoms associated with convergence insufficiency include a "pulling" sensation around the eyes, the rubbing or closing of one eye when reading, words seeming to "jump" or "float" across the page, needing to reread the same line of words, frequent loss of place, general inability to concentrate and short attention span.

Children with this condition will not benefit from tutoring, special education or extra help from teachers until the condition is diagnosed and treated. A child can have 20/20 vision and still have this disorder. It's not routinely checked with eye exams, and schools don't test for it.

I suspect that many children out there are undiagnosed or misdiagnosed and going untreated. The treatment for convergence insufficiency disorder is noninvasive, effective, and much of it can be done at home. It involves special vision therapy that can help retrain the eyes. Interestingly enough, as the Doc spoke yesterday, I "got it" so well because she was describing ME as well. Hopefully the therapy we do for Ciarra will benefit me as well. If not, there are special prisms we can get for my glasses that will help.

http://www.add-adhd.org/vision_therapy_FAQ.html

What is Vision Therapy or Visual Training?

Vision therapy (visual training, vision training) is an individualized supervised treatment program designed to correct visual-motor and/or perceptual-cognitive deficiencies which have various causes, such as:

inadequate sensorimotor development
trauma to the nervous system (i.e., birth injury, brain trauma, closed head trauma, etc.)
stress
in some cases, contributing hereditary factors (i.e., crossed-eyes, wandering eyes)
Vision therapy trains the entire visual system which includes eyes, brain and body. However, it is important to understand that vision therapy is a form of neurological training or rehabilitation (it can be compared to some forms of occupational therapy or physical therapy). The goal of vision therapy is to train the patient's brain to use the eyes to receive information effectively, comprehend it quickly and react appropriately.

Vision therapy sessions include procedures designed to enhance the brain's ability to control eye alignment, eye movements, focusing abilities, and eye teamwork (binocular vision). Visual-motor skills and endurance are developed through the use of specialized computer and optical devices, including therapeutic lenses, prisms and filters. During the final stages of therapy, the patient's newly acquired visual skills are reinforced and made automatic through repetition and by integration with motor and cognitive skills.


Can vision therapy help children with learning problems?

Yes! Vision therapy can be an important part of the overall treatment of a child's learning problem. Vision and sensorimotor deficits can cause eyestrain, headaches, blurred or double vision, loss of place while reading, and difficulty maintaining attention on close work. Even intelligent, highly motivated children can be severely handicapped by these problems in the academic environment.

Correcting these deficits allows affected children to benefit from academic remediation and to achieve their full potential in the classroom.

Approximately 20% of school-aged children may be affected to some degree by learning related vision disorders. This percentage dramatically increases within the special education, learning disabled and remedial reading populations, where as many as 70% of the students have a significant visual component to their learning problems.



I have high hopes that Ciarra and I both can get our eyes working better. And I thought you might be interested in knowing about this hidden condition that just might be masking some of those awesome abilities our kids have. If your child fits the description, start asking questions!!

Here's looking at you, beautiful girl.

looking in ~ Ciarra's life

I have had the opportunity several times this past week to see Ciarra more from the outside looking in. It has been a distinct pleasure.

Last night, I had to run her brother to the Docs, and left everyone eating supper. she was at her table in the living room. when I got home, she said the dog had eaten her supper and would I mind taking her to McDonalds? Now, Ciarra is a homebody. she likes to be here and rarely can be talked into going out. shes a tad (ok, a lot) spoiled in that she doesnt really often have wants that are unfullfilled, so it is hard to bribe her. She likes to be home, she likes to sit in her Library room and read, watch tv, color, etc. But she wanted McDonalds, and off we went. (I was thrilled she wanted to go!) I sat down, gave her the money, and let her order her meal. She did so, ver politely and carefully, cautiously enunciating every word. The lady at the counter was surely there just for us last night, I couldnt have asked for a kinder more tolerant person. She very politely took Ciarra's order and asked her questions, what grade, how old, etc. They had a very nice, normal conversation. another lady came over to give her her nuggets, and Ciarra engaged her as well. When she turned to walk to the table, I heard them say "OMG, isnt she the most adorable, polite kid EVER?" As a Mom, there are way worse things you can hear. I was proud of her, and every time something like this goes so smoothly, it gives me more faith in the future and her place in it. She will be ok, I think. As we were leaving, the lady asked me if she could give C a hot fudge sunday, and told me she thought Ciarra was beautiful and sweet. We enjoyed our meal together, talking and laughing, and I realized HOW big she is getting. I treasure these moments.



Then today I was at her school, and it was lunchtime, so I detoured to go say hi. I scoured the lunchroom, saw the aides that work in the life skills room, some of the kids, no Ciarra. she wasnt in the table I always see her at either. Then there she was, across the room, animatedly telling some story with 5-6 little girls listeningly intently, who all laughed when she was done talking. It was so normal it took my breath away. Little girls being little girls, but allowing her...special needs and all....to not only be a part of their group, but a treasured part of their group. The friendships she has are so important to her, and so fullfilling to see. They saw me coming and were all smiles. One stood to give me a hug, I noticed how tall she was and she must have read my mind, she said "Im wearinf high heels!" I love that these precious little people have been in my life for so long and that they truly and genuinely like my daughter. The one big fear I have always had was that she would not have friends. Some days, I think she has more friends than I ever will. I love that little circle of preteen heads, gathered close, whispering and giggling. I love that she is a part of it, I love that it is happening naturally, and that it is genuine. Thank God for the innocense of children, they give me hope.

beautiful song

a beautiful spirit-need your prayers

The song above is called Endlessslumber by Sam Chase. I heard this song a few years ago, through my daughter Kristin, who was friends with Sams sister and also with his little brother Leo. I spoke with Sam several times after, I had a feeling he was going to be somebody, he is a very talented young man. Kristin came home all excited last week because she had seen Leo, she really likes the kid.

Sam later joined with his friend Yuri to create a band that has an old sound, very reminiscient of Simon and Garfunkel.



http://www.myspace.com/samandyuri

Two Glenburn brothers were injured Sunday night when the driver lost control of his car about 6:30 p.m. as it was headed into Bangor on Broadway. A witness, who asked not to be identified, said the driver lost control just after the white station wagon passed under Interstate 95. It crossed the oncoming lanes, became airborne and struck the side of an empty two-story frame house next to the Irving Mainway. The car landed on its roof.

Sam and his little brother Leo were seriously injured in a car accident this week. I understand that an unknown medical condition caused the accident. Your prayers would be much appreciated for these two beautiful young men.

I'm Goin' Home

I needed to sort a few things out in my mind yesterday, and so I took a long drive. I never intended it to be quite so far, but before I knew it, my car was heading North up 95. I was going home, to the place I grew up.If I had planned this trip, I would have brought my camera, but I didnt, so the things I saw will have to remain in my minds eye, and maybe that is for the best.
when I was born, my mom was 17 years old. she was the youngest of 15 kids, dirt poor, and had never been raised with much of anything, especially love. Somehow, she managed to have a very strong maternal instinct, and an innate ability to survive. Although I would say they made a fair number of mistakes, I understand that they were SO young, and she came into it with so little preparation. One thing she always did was love us, even when her own internal battles raged and she was not the mom from Leave It To Beaver, in her way, she loved us better than many moms who are born with silver spoons in their mouths. But we were poor. I used to think she just didnt like to eat much, then I realised she was giving my brother and I the only food there was, many times. I am not sure how we made it, no car, little food, 2 babies being raised by a teen girl. She carried us to work with her, one on each hip, a year and eleven days apart, frostbite on her own legs, but us believing it was a fun adventure.
I drove into "The County" as we call it, Aroostook County, Maine. It is a 31/2 hr drive each way. Although I am firmly rooted here in my town and have lived here virtually all of my adult life, the call of "home" is strong. Driving past the potato fields, harvesters and diggers, Mount Katahdin, and the University Of Maine at Presque Isle was an awesome feeling. I was almost home, that other home of my childhood, the place where I came from, and I was determined to take the time to see the places I havent seen in 15-20 years.
I came over the hill into Caribou, the place of my birth, and felt a rush of emotion. No matter where I go, there will never be another feeling like the one I have driving through the places of my childhood. My Aunt Betty's house, a tiny little yellow bird of a place, it never changes, although no longer hers. There is still the huge propane tank in the yard, it looks like a submarine, and thats what we used it for as kids. My cousins Beth and Lisa and Barbara and their brothers Bobby and Duane would climb inside it, pretend it was a sub, and have great adventures. Driving by the house took barely 10 seconds, but in that flash of time I remembered Barbies tomboy ways, the little hideout under the house, Beth ann trying to fly off the neighbors roof with just an umbrella to break her fall. we really believed it would work, it did for mary poppins! I remembered my Uncle Phillip getting so drunk he passed out on the couch, and us kids broke out Bettys makeup kit, and painted every inch of his face in garish colors, did his toenails and fingernails, and tied little bows into his hair. He would wake up screaming mad, and then laugh and chase us out of the house. I remembered when we lived there, before my biological dad went to prison, before Betty moved in, sitting in the dark at the kitchen table, with my dad furiously mad and me quietly trying not to gag down the cold food I despised. And I remembered me and Duane as teens, sitting in his car, up on blocks, singing Leather & Lace by Stevie Nicks, the only thing that worked on that car was the radio, but I was about 13 and hero worshipped him. I will never forget that day, and the friendship we shared. It was only a few months later that I called his house after school and lisa answered, I asked for him, and she said he couldnt come to the phone just then. I heard it in her voice, something was wrong. I was sitting at dinner that night, my mom was at work, when my stepdad answered the phone. He took a message, then dialed my mother at the nursing home where she was working, to tell her that "your idiot nephew hung himself today". And I sat there, trying to swallow, my heart was racing, but I couldnt show emotion or he would turn on me. And i knew it was my Duane, and he had promised me he never would, and I had believed him. I remembered his funeral, and a neighbor trouble maker who pulled down his turtleneck, and showed everyone the marks on his neck. I remembered my Grandmother, who had been told a different story, and the shock and dismay on her face when she knew. And I remembered going there a year or so later, when Lisa gave birth to her first child, Nikki, standing over the crib in the newly remodeled house, admiring the baby, and then realizing with a chill that I was standing in the exact spot where his body had hung, and I looked up, and the patched hole was still there. I never went back there again.
I kept driving, and checked on a property we own up there, my bio dads old family home, a trailer on a little plot of land. It was snowed in, no footsteps, meaning no one had been there causing trouble. Nothing to see, snowbanks too high to get inside, and a sigh of relief. I hate dealing with that place, the anger and resentment are still too strong. deal with it in the springtime, when we can figure out what to do with it.
I drove on, and came to the little trailer park where we lived when I was small, in the days just before my dad went to prison (again). dell-wood trailer park. I drove in, not expecting to see anything familiar, but I had forgotten that trailer parks never age, and 3 doors down on the left, there it was. Maybe it is my mind playing tricks, but I dont think so. I remembered jumping off the porch and hitting my head on the rollout window, I remember that there was an awful secret propagated there...and I remembered the little boy named Richie Plante who lived across the way, who was my brothers best friend, and who had some kind of liver or kidney disease and needed a transplant. I drove around the road and out, back onto the highway. I wanted to visit the place I spent the happiest days of my childhood. Loring Air Force Base.
When my mom remarried, a guy named Ray adopted us. (I havent seen him in 20 years) I used to think he was just a jerk, he was way too strict, and had a mean streak. But he was a few years younger than even my mother, meaning when I was 7, he was barely 21. She was 24. hardly old enough to take care of themselves, let alone 2 little kids. But they did. It makes more sense now why they screwed up sometimes, but back then I just thought he was mean. But he was in the military, and he brought us out of poverty, and to this little piece of Heaven AF base. There were green lawns, a Rec center, pool, movie theatre, woods to climb in, lakes to fish in, sports teams, and a courtyard of friends to play with. I wanted to see those places again. I hadnt been on the base since I was about 17, 23 years ago. The base actually closed in the early 90s, but in my mind, it has always been the same, just with new occupants.
I drove past what used to be the main gate, where you had to show ID to get in, and it felt a little weird just driving in, I looked to see if there was anyone in the gatehouse, but it was empty. It was a very emotional thing for me, to go back there. But it was instinctual, too, although I had not had a license when I lived there, I had ridden my bike through all of the roads that werent heavily guarded. I knew it even now, and every road filled me with memories. But as I drove, I was disappointed. Damon elementary was gone, apparently torn down. I passed beaver Dam, where we crossed the little stream to get home every day, and I could almost hear us laughing. In my minds eye, i could see myself, too, running from a boy named paul on his motorcycle, chasing me with the promise of more touching that I didnt want. I shook the memory away and kept driving. I planned to go through the housing, but there was a huge snowbank in the way. My mom told me later last night that they tore all the old houses down. acres and acres of houses...what a shame.
I drove down the main drag, past the hospital which is now some kind of adminsitrative building. Past the Youth center where I spent many many hours playing. It was closed up, unpainted, the road into its driveway blocked by snow. The playground still stood, but you could see it hadnt known the laughter of children for a very long time. Part of the roof was caved in, and it made me cry. I was sad to see the places of my childhood so neglected and unloved. so many memories, baseball games, cars lined up for a mile, parents sharing laughs the same way we do now for ours. It was all gone.
I drive through the base, past the old theatre where i watched all the early Disney movies, eiding our bikes there every weekend to see what was playing and buy the jolly rancehrs candies we loved so much. I last went there when I was a teen with Jim and our friends Peter & Theresa to see Children of the Corn. I remember Jim and I snuck out early, it was pouring rain and pete came out to bring the car around. Jim and I were hiding in the backseat, when he got in I grabbed his shoulder and said in my scariest corn voise "He wants you too, malachi!" peter jumped. I laughed as I drove away, remembering that day and the fun we used to have there. Past the old pool, the heavy air and the smell of sweat from the locker rooms. I often dream about that place, and I wonder how we as kids were able to stay safe in a building chock full of young military men. Respect, trust, whatever...we were always safe there. Past the NCO club, where my mom won my hope chest at Bingo one night. To the flightline, and the hangars, where housands of us gathered to watch the air shows, the Thunderbirds roaring overhead, Blue Angels too. The low building where we climbed to watch the planes, sitting in the belly of a KC135, walking on the wings of the biggest military planes of the day. Running through the hangars, watching the younger guys salute my dad, sitting in the boom of a tanker, imagining what it was like to fly. The hangars were all chipped and rusty, doors closed. In my mind I could see the sharp military men and women, the pride in the upkeep, the gleaming windows and smartly painted doors. And I cried. It felt sad to be there, remembering the roar of the crowd, the decency and kindness of the people there. In my mind, I said goodbye to Ray, and I thanked him for giving us those years. He did the best he could.
I drove past base Ops, where I met Jim on a bus one day 25 years ago, Feb 25th, during the winterama, when boy and girl scouts gathered to spend the weekend in the snow. I had a group of little girls, I was a jr leader. he had a group of little boys, he was one of the older kids who helped with the troop. It was pouring rain, and I had just sent all my girls off for the day, they were too little to spend the night. I was waiting for my bus, when I heard one honk. I thought it was mine, but it was Jim. he had seen me standing there, and wanted me to look up. said he wanted to see my eyes again, he had seen me in the base Ops building. I had taken my glasses off because of the rain, and was half blind. I ran to the door, thinking it was my bus, and was too cool to let them think I made a mistake, plus he was sitting there so handsome, looking down at me with a shy smile. I climbed on board and found a seat in the back, asked if they would mind me catching a ride. It wasnt long before he was sitting beside me in the back seat, holding my hand. Memories....
I left the base, past the old restaurants, through the town we moved to when we moved off the base. Past my high school, my childhood best friends Lisas house. I couldnt believe it when her parents still lived there. Her mom came to the door, peeked through, hollered "Bernie, can you believe it, its Lisas friend Michelle!" MANy pounds heavier, many years older, but she knew it was me by my eyes, she said. she gave me Lisas new number, hugged me 50 times or so, and told me to keep in touch. I got the distinct feeling this was goodbye for real, and there were tears in my eyes when I said it.
Past Main street, which is mostly boarded up now, the little grocery store I worked at gone. Up my old street, past the twiins house where we climbed trees. past Cindys house, where we had parties we shouldnt have. Past my neighbors house, who hid the big black leather bar Ronnie and I bought my parents one Christmas (which is the one thing from my childhood i still have) and there it was....my house. so much happened there, good and bad. Prom, divorce, abuse, love, sneaking pepsis from the fridge, latchkey kids who dared to tough dads stereo even though it was clearly against the rules. Listening to my parents friends, drunk and laughing, wishing I could be a part of the fun, wondering why they thought it was funny to sing into the vacuum hose? My mom kicking me out, and me getting arrested for kicking the door down and taking my stuff. Michael standing in the doorway, telling me Wnedy was pregnant and he was leaving for the Army. My parents sending me to bed, sitting Jim down to have "the talk". Ronnie going away to join the Air Force, Ray leaving, the little car he bought himself, that seemed like a slap in the face because we were eating with the help of food stamps. Science fairs and poetry contests, a little puppy named Charlie in the mailbox, Dutchess the lab who was our glue. Late nights, when 5 minutes late meant I was grounded, the little cubby closet in my room, papered with Shaun Cassidy and leif garrett posters, only big enough for me to squeeze into, to be alone and away fromt he noise. The house is much prettier now, fancier. It is the same house, but too different. Just memories, keep driving.
I drove into Jims hometown, two towns over from mine. Catholic, french-speaking people with strong values and work ethics. I didnt even drive through town, not past his families old house, not past the ancient trailer we lived in when kristin was born. straight to the nursing home, to see his mom. It has been over 5 years, and I am ashamed to admit that. she is in late stage Alzheimers, and I have been scared. I go to the door, and am asking the nurse at the desk if she can show me to her room, when another nurse walking towards me pushing a wheelcahir says "Oh, right here And I look down into the chair at this tiny woman with grey hair and a frozen smile, and it takes me a minute, and I am ashamed. I wheel her back into her room, pull up a chair, and hold her hand. I cant be sure she really knows it is me, but I think she does. I tell her all about the kids, and Jim, tell her how sorry I am, how beautiful she is...and she is....alzheimers can ravage the brain, but she still has the same eyes of the man I love, the same beautiful skin and small hands. I love this woman in a way I cant explain, and I need her to know that. I try not to cry, but I cant help it. The floodgates open, and I am telling her that I miss her, her cooking, her laughter, the way she held us all together as a family. I tell her that we dont lock kristin in the closet anymore (an inside joke) and I swear she smiles at that. she tries to whisper something, although I have been told she doesnt talk. I listen close, but I cant catch it, although I am sure the word love is in there. I squeeze her hand, now covered by my tears, and tell her I love her too. Her room is full of pictures and beautiful things, unlike that of her roomate, it is clear that she matters to people. I am sad for both of them, and as sad for her as the other, because caring for someone doesnt just mean sending photos at Christmas. It means sitting there, holding their hand, being there, even if there is only the slightest glimmer of recognition. For her, not for me. And I am sad that I have allowed fear and business to consume the years, that Jim has managed to get here half a dozen times without me. And I promise her I will be back, that it doesnt matter how far away we live, we want to see her. and I tell her her youngest baby is doing well, that Jim is successful and happy, mostly, and that we are ok. And I know the smile is there because she hears me. I kiss her forehead and tell her I have to go. and I take her to the lunchroom so she can be fed, and I hold her hand for a minute and contemplate the promise I just made, as I look around me and notice the elderly man holding the hand of the wife who seems not to even know he is there, telling her stories about their grandchildren, devotion. We make time for so many other things, we HAVE to make time for this woman we so love. I hate leaving her, and I cry all the way to the door, where a sweet elderly man tells me the combination to the door code, and I think with amusement about how he could escape, if he wanted to, but instead he makes it a point to be the one who is the gentleman, escorting guests out, showing them how to be free of the place that he may never leave. Life is ironic, isnt it? We hurry to grow up, then we want to revisit our childhoods. we think we want to get older, and then we look it in the eye with fear. I feel like I said goodbye to some things today, and maybe grew a little as a person in the meantime. I hope so anyway. It was a long drive home.