packing up this morning and heading back to california. I’m taking the chicken poop way out and not stopping at the care center to say goodbye to mama moss. too gut wrenching and potential flood of tears inducing. so I said goodbye yesterday evening when I tucked her in bed. I hate that she’s confused and doesn’t know what she should be doing from one minute to the next.
still there are moments of bright clarity. the Past is a ship that is still in the harbor. It’s the Present that has set sail. floating out across choppy water in a gale. you are desperate to help guide her back, but from shore it’s frustratingly impossible.
meanwhile Dottie dances at a wedding, as she put it, “in my I’m-not-in-the-convent-anymore blouse.”
mama moss says wry and funny things out on the terrace in the warm kansas sunshine.
sister and I play in our visual journals and eat delicious brisket that chris made.
catch you on the flip flop, drip drop.
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