Getting Younger and Younger

I flew to Atlanta last Sunday to drive up to the mountain cottage for our family celebration of Mother's 98th birthday. When I left her on Monday afternoon, I was angrier and more disgusted with her than I've ever been in my entire life.

On Tuesday I screwed up my courage, called her, and told her I was angry. I'm almost sixty-one years old, and that's the very first time I've had the courage to do that. Ever!

What did I say to her? "You're a very smart woman. You're trained as a nurse. You have studied nutrition for years. You're diabetic. And you sit and eat chocolate right before you're having your blood tested." Her reading was 232!

We try to treat her with respect. We do everything in our power to increase her quality of life. My sister-in-law has devoted a great deal of time and energy over the past three years to helping mother.

For what?! For you to sneak candy behind my back?!

I've never felt loved and accepted by her. Honestly? Right now, I don't feel very loving and accepting towards her!

If you want to put yourself into a diabetic whatever; If you want to have a stroke or a heart attack — Go ahead. Just leave us out of it. Do it on your own time. Stop taking advantage of our generosity and our kindness.

I was so happy when the trip was over and I was back in my own home, with my kind and considerate man, near to my loving grandchildren.

I don't ever want to get to be 98 years old and acting like I'm two years old.

The goodness of the trip? Spending some time with my brothers and sister-in-law, and sitting on the porch, knitting, glancing out at this vista.

Or stepping out in the early morning to see this.

Or glancing across at my lot, wondering if it will ever sell or if I'll ever be able to build a vacation house there.

I love going to that mountain cottage, especially when I can go there and not worry about who's sneaking what behind my back.