If a morning is not photographed, does it still exist?

In the gazebo, having been awake for about 50 minutes. Hurrah for space heaters! The birds are having a marvelous time, their last shot before day is officially here.

I find myself thinking about what my mother refers to “this step in the journey”, as she distributes her personally valuable possessions, a bit at a time, to family members (and, I assume, friends) to ensure that they will survive her, I suppose. I now have my father’s accumulated papers, which I hope to sort and put safely away. My brother Tim says that he has tried, but he cannot read the accumulated letters written by my parents to each other during the war. Both of them served in the Pacific Theater, Mother in the Navy and Dad in the Army. He says that he could not handle it emotionally. I think I’m just more used to … What? Compartmentalizing? Verbalizing my feelings as a form of diluting them? Accustomed to feeling my feelings as they come along? I don’t know.

We don’t seem to be talking with one another, my siblings and I, about the possibility that one or both of our parents may soon be dead. Or not, since neither really seems to be ailing, aside from my mother’s using a cane to steady herself as she moves from one room to the next. Al and I were at their home briefly, a week or so ago. (The personal products that Dad uses still make me ill {fragrance sensitivities}, so visits are of necessity short, unless the weather is cool and cloudy and dry enough to visit on the backyard deck.) Next year he turns one hundred years old. Mowing his own lawn, driving 20 miles once or twice a week to do grocery shopping, buy new clothes or shoes as he needs them, and such. Mother doesn’t drive out of town, anymore. I think it’s uncertainty more than inability.

In 2000 my mother’s website at Worldnet got a “site of the month” award. I moved it to WordPress (RhodaBerry) when AT&T shut down the web hosting. (Note to self: make sure the contact email is up to date, there.)

I need a place to make a list of things that will need to be done, but cannot be taken care of right now.