I am at home with my parents in Norfolk (pronounced Naw-fuk), VA. Mom is good—she was released from the hospital and is resting now. Not as bad as I imagined, and I'm glad I made the trip.
Thanks for all the well wishes. She's tickled that folks have taken the time to comment. I am, too.
In order to get out of the house yesterday, I found this voice inside of me giving me permission to leave. It said things like, “It’s OK to leave toys in the middle of the floor." "It’s OK that I didn’t go to the grocery store last night—they won’t starve.” "It’s OK to go and take care of my mother for a few days.” "It’s OK, Jan. Just go."
But at the airport, my son was in tears. I underestimated how upset Alex would be, which, in turn, made me underestimate upset I would be. I cried all through the first leg of my journey. Even when I turned to walk away from the car. I found myself saying, "It’s OK to leave him,” but I didn’t believe me.
It’s 74 and partly sunny in Norfolk. Tonight I'm having dinner with an old friend. Life is good.
Waiting patiently for the poems to come. NaPoWriMo, baby!