A Meditation on Age

Sometimes, the matriarch drives me crazy...her greatest wish is to go for lunch; her easiest want to satisfy is a drive about the township. But, here is the thing, as I sit writing on the computer, my 100 year old mother-in-law is wandering about the house--getting exercise, she calls it. Up the stairs, down the stairs, round the hall, into the kitchen and back up again. She does not come into the front room--she thinks what I am doing is work, so she does not come into the room. My mother-in-law knows I don't work; but, she does not understand this computer thing and waits for my daughter to show her the movie trailers. But do you understand I am complaining about the activities of an hundred year old woman? She is wandering about my house; I feel my privacy invaded; but, my mother-in-law is 100...what else can she do?

My priorities need to be adjusted.

My mother-in-law can do a lot of things--except see. She is not deaf, she has no cane, her gait is steady; she'd love a date. She cannot see except, of course, for those days when she can see which are always inconvenient. I wish I knew what exactly she could manage to see, how bright the light must be to see something. The word "blind" floats about unsaid; the opthamologist has confirmed it, but I live in a world where my expectations are constantly surprised. She wipes a bit of dust off my husband's suit; how does she know it is there? How can she see it? The world would be so much better if she could see...I think.

How does the world appear to one so old? Does my mother-in-law care anymore? I know she enjoys movie trailers and strawberries; she likes to go for lunch and for drives; but, I don't understand the meaning of her existence...but, then I live under the delusion there is meaning to existence. The matriarch has just given my older daughter her flowers from her birthday:

I wanted Werthers and chips; I don't like flowers.

My daughter thinks her grandmother is annoyed because she wanted the water on the flowers changed yesterday and my daughter had to go to piano first. If there is one thing that does annoy me: when the matriarch wants something done, she wants it done immediately. My youngest is the only one who can cajole any kind of patience out of her. But why the rush? It is not like she or the flowers are going anywhere. Up the stairs, down the stairs again. I try so hard to understand why it is like this. I can rationalize in a weird way surprise deaths, accidents, even tragedies; but, for the life of me, I cannot understand why someone who does nothing lives so long, is so healthy.

As a matter of gossip, the matriarch's doctor has MS; she has gone through 3 doctors, 2 of whom have retired and this fellow who is ill and may retire early. There are so many ironies here it could be seen as really funny where it not for me knowing the fellow and he being a nice, albeit a doctor who thinks he knows everything, kind of guy.

Up the stairs, down the stairs.

Dinner still not ready?

We are having salmon, new potatoes and spinach and the matriarch will eat it all and have strawberries with sugar for dessert. Then, go back upstairs to watch her shows and go to bed and I will ponder on the meaning of existence wondering why some in this world have it so easy and some seem born to endure.