We're in the car, halfway to Philadelphia to visit my family. We used to come five or six times a year, but we haven't been since June, for my nephew's graduation party, and we won't likely be back until the summer. People are busy.
I submitted my last time sheet of 2019. I thought that maybe I'd wait until Tuesday, that maybe I'd work for a while tomorrow or Tuesday, but I abandoned that idea almost as soon as I thought about it. I'm going to stay on vacation until Thursday.
We're driving past country houses near Bel Air, Maryland, Christmas lights twinkling in the middle of the afternoon. We change the radio station every few minutes as reception fades and returns. Traffic is steady, and the trees are either completely bare or evergreen, Christmas trees in the wild. We'll stop at Wawa for some coffee and then we'll be at my sister's house in about 90 minutes, just in time for the cousins to trash talk each other through the 4 PM football games.
*****
It's Monday now, and still raining. I saw a Christmas tree in the trash this morning, while I was out walking my sister's goofy dog. He sniffed happily at the wet scraggly fragrant evergreen, and then we kept walking.
My sons and their cousins watched football last night, lounging in front of the TV, wearing flannels and hoodies and inexplicably, ski hats. It's not that cold. Surrounded by plates of cookies and bowls of chips, hurling cheerful insults about their respective terrible (Redskins) and mediocre (Eagles) teams, they were the very picture of Christmas vacation contentment.
I made a coffee run this morning, to the Wawa around the corner from my sister's house. I tuned the radio, looking for something other than Monday morning sports talk. I landed on an oldies station because Philadelphia radio does not acknowledge the passage of time beyond 1983 or so. Chicago was asking the musical question "Does anyone really know what time it is?" and I found that I couldn't answer. In full vacation mode, I had lost track of time. But a rainy Monday morning in the winter feels like Monday no matter what, so I knew what day it was.
*****
New Year's Eve, 1 PM. We're on the road now, after a short visit with my grandmother at her tiny, reeking of smoke row house in Philadelphia. She has lived in that house for 60 years. She has a chair lift because she can no longer manage the stairs.
"She should really quit smoking," my 18-year-old son says.
"Yeah, it must be really bad for someone her age," my 15 year old says.
"She just turned 96," I tell them. "She's not interested in any health advice."
96 is very old. My grandmother is frail. Her eyesight is very poor and her hearing isn't so good either. My mother says that she hears what she wants to hear. Maybe that's true. If so, I don't blame her. But I don't think it's a choice. I think that she has moments of auditory clarity, when she can hear exactly what you say, the first time. Most of the time, though, you have to shout at her, or repeat yourself several times.
Physical limitations aside, she's still sharp. Her memory is excellent and her reasoning and judgment are sound. Well, she likes Donald Trump, but her reasoning and judgment are otherwise sound. We don't talk about politics. I'm not going to argue with a 96-year-old woman.
My sons are uncharacteristically quiet now. They visit my grandmother only occasionally, since we don't live nearby. I think she scares them a little and they're not sure why. I understand why. Old age is terrible, and terrifying.
*****
New Year’s Day, the first day of 2020. I turned the Christmas tree lights on this morning. The tree still looks pretty but it’s ragged around the edges. It’s droopy and tired. The tree knows that the holidays are at an end. It knows that the gig is up.
It’s sunny again, and almost cold. It’s been a lovely vacation. I’m back at work tomorrow, and my poor 15-year-old has 5 AM swim practice on his first day back at school. But it’s fine. I don’t mind going back to work, and I don’t think he’ll mind going back to school, though I’m sure that he will mind the 4:30 wake-up call. But a person can't sleep in every day. A week of not planning and not setting alarms and not keeping track of time is a nice way to end a year but it's enough, I suppose. 2020 begins in earnest tomorrow.
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