Sunrise, Sunrise....

Sometimes the sunrises were just ordinary. This was 'just a sunrise', and yet... what beauty. There was something about THIS WINDOW. If I went outside in front of the house, the sunrise wasn't nearly as spectacular... it lost something in the vast outdoors. Confined in that window, as I was confined in that house, it seemed to blossom... to bloom... to sing.

As you can see, I took picture after picture.

I didn't sleep in my Mother's house. ... Well, I slept, but never well. After we came home from the first stroke, I slept in another room until I realized that she was so compromised that I needed to be able to be closer to her. For quite a while I slept on my Father's side of the bed, listening for her to wake up and need attention. She learned to pat me to get me to wake up, if I was asleep. A difficult thing to do as she tended to snore. Somehow, as she got 'better' the snoring got worse... for a while I thought I would truly have to smother her with a pillow (grin)...

Somewhere along the way I set up the middle bedroom and moved in there, with a listening device, which allowed me to listen to, but not be INVOLVED in, her snoring. Since her abilities were limited, she would still, eternally, pat my side of the bed if she needed to get up, so I had to be awake enough at all times to hear the pat pat pat. We got a bell... it helped... When I finally moved back into my house it took me months to quit listening for that stoopid bell. Months. It took me months before I was able to stay up past 8 at night. I'm still in rebellion, occasionally staying up very late although I get up at 6 every morning.

I sometimes stop, even now, and think,"I'm not in my Mother's house anymore". Such freedom. I cannot begin to tell you what freedom, but I still wait every night to hear that bell... only now it's a telephone call...

and I miss the view from my Mother's window...