Last Friday we stood in parking lot of our coffee shop in downtown Mosier and watched the tops of the trees burning bright red along the edge of town. It was very close to burning the entire town down. In the middle of that apocalyptic scene, with smoke literally drifting over the street, Charles got a call from his Dad saying that his Mum was in the hospital with a stroke. She couldn’t talk and couldn’t move.
We stayed up all night without power or water, waiting for more calls with more news. Suddenly everything felt on very shaky ground. All the little things we take for granted. Change felt like a powerful, angry force. And Australia was so far away.
By the next day, they had decided that it was Bacterial Meningitis -which is serious but treatable. They gave her antibiotics and waited to see if they would work. Meanwhile the fire worked in a weird parallel, continuing to burn but no longer threatening the houses. And by the time the power came back on Sunday morning, Charles felt for the first time that his Mum was going to be ok.
She is getting better now, thank God, but not before a dark call on Monday letting us know that doctors didn’t think she was going to make it. After that she sat up, had tea and now is walking the halls and rolling her eyes at Richard’s jokes. The relief is giddy.
Charles left today for two weeks (he had to wait for an expired passport) and it was so good to see him off under these circumstances. Free to complain and worry about two whole weeks on my own with Gus.
That was until I met with an old college friend later this morning who told me about his seven year old boy with severe Autism -not that it’s all bad, but it is certainly hard for them at times. And so left to spend the rest of my day with Gus and found that I just couldn’t muster up the internal complaints after that. Not even when he had a massive poo (seriously, it required a bath).