"Groundhog Day"

 

          My life, somehow, warped into a version of that old Bill Murray movie, Groundhog Day. The repetitious nature of my daily routine varies slightly from one day to the next. Usually, the sequence of events remains constant. I don’t know if it’s age or disease that requires my mother to follow a strict regimen as her day progresses. All I know is that I’m trapped in a similar scenario that alters in miniscule ways throughout the week, meshing the hours one into the other. If I didn’t cross a huge X on the calendar to mark off dates, I wouldn’t have proof that time passed. Like Phil, I relive events with slight differences and hope fervently that escape comes with the next buzz of the alarm clock. Like Phil, perhaps my new life will lead me to a better appreciation of life if I can simply learn the right combination of compassion and humor. Some days, I find myself sniping at anyone within range. Some days, I use my writing to open an escape hatch and sneak me out of my reality. Some days, though, the routine offers me a chance to examine my role as a daughter. I’m humbled by the courage my mother musters each morning because she needs assistance now in so many ways. Logic tells me that the predictability of each hour allows Mom to focus her energy where she needs it. If I’m lucky, at the end I’ll be a stronger and better person for surviving the monotony and repetition.     

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"The Best Laid Plans"

           I plan. As long as I can remember, I’ve set specific goals that I aim to attain. In my youth, I designed a year plan, a five year plan, and a nebulous “someday” list of possibilities. For years, I’d jot these objectives on the last page of my journals, sometimes including deadline dates. Many of these targets focused on simple things like to pay off a credit card in six months, plant bushes for Mother’s Day, buy a new chair for the living room, or replace the fence. I love that one since it’s been on my lists for the last five years!

           Then the years came where the lists shifted more to living goals: Harmony-not perfection, Count the good days, Listen carefully, Let it go. I imagine this shift came because I never crossed some items off the lists, never reached the goals. Or maybe I came to realize that some of those items never go away. There’s always something to buy or repair around a home. I like to think that my aspirations shifted into making myself a better person.

           During the last couple of years, the lists stopped altogether. I don’t want to remind myself that my washer and dryer approach year twenty-five and should be replaced. Also, I don’t want to shift into the future too far. Many days, I slip into survival mode where making it through the next twenty-four hours with grace and understanding seems enough of a focus for me. Those of you with elderly parents needing care understand this protective move. Planning ahead brings the possibility of too much loss and heartbreak. Instead, I’ve set aside my lists of goals because I know that within the next year, or even as little as six months, every plan could go awry.

Edna and Karl Abrams with us heading to a wedding

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"The Best Laid Plans"

          I plan. As long as I can remember, I’ve set specific goals that I aim to attain. In my youth, I designed a year plan, a five year plan, and a nebulous “someday” list of possibilities. For years, I’d jot these objectives on the last page of my journals, sometimes including deadline dates. Many of these targets focused on simple things like to pay off a credit card in six months, plant bushes for Mother’s Day, buy a new chair for the living room, or replace the fence. I love that one since it’s been on my lists for the last five years!

           Then the years came where the lists shifted more to living goals: Harmony-not perfection, Count the good days, Listen carefully, Let it go. I imagine this shift came because I never crossed some items off the lists, never reached the goals. Or maybe I came to realize that some of those items never go away. There’s always something to buy or repair around a home. I like to think that my aspirations shifted into making myself a better person.

           During the last couple of years, the lists stopped altogether. I don’t want to remind myself that my washer and dryer approach year twenty-five and should be replaced. Also, I don’t want to shift into the future too far. Many days, I slip into survival mode where making it through the next twenty-four hours with grace and understanding seems enough of a focus for me. Those of you with elderly parents needing care understand this protective move. Planning ahead brings the possibility of too much loss and heartbreak. Instead, I’ve set aside my lists of goals because I know that within the next year, or even as little as six months, every plan could go awry.

Edna and Karl Abrams with us heading to a wedding

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman