I Will Not Lie

It's nice being home. I can breathe deeper, I can sleep almost all the way through the night, I've even taken my three bags of stuff to the Boy's Ranch. I feel productive. It's almost like I need to touch everything in the house to bring my energy to it again, to wipe down the sinks, load the dishwasher, cook a meal and wash the dishes, fold the laundry. But a part of me stays in Bismarck, pulled, wondering when I should go. Dad says Mom isn't talking much, says that her hands and feet are cold. I'll leave tomorrow noon to go back, packing for two weeks should I need to stay that long.

How do I feel right now? Tired. I feel tired almost all the time, so I'm listening to my body and being gentle with it, eating when I'm able, resting as often as possible, just enjoying cuddling Bill or Steve, enjoying my short time with them. I know all of this is transitory, so I'm focusing on staying in the present moment, we're all here ... NOW, and that's a very good thing, as Martha Stewart would say. A very good thing. But I will not lie - it sure is nice to be home. There's no place like it. I cook rhubarb crunch and risotto-style barley to take back to my sisters and dad, then I head west 194 miles to the hospital, my other home.