In my mother’s tiny house, the front room, a.k.a. the Sun Porch, is where she and my stepfather entertain friends, read, nap, or watch TV of an evening. The home's living room, on the other hand, is tucked away behind the kitchen and is mostly unused. It contains one small love seat, an antique rocking chair, my mother’s piano, the computer, and a filing cabinet.
I received an email today from my mother, telling me that her bed had been moved from the second story bedroom down to the living room so that it would be on the main floor. She doesn’t really need it to be there yet, but they are anticipating the inevitable day when she will no longer be strong enough to manage the stairs. And since my stepfather cannot move furniture on his own any longer, a friend offered to help them do the move today so that they wouldn’t have to scramble at the last minute when Mom’s strength finally gives way.
My mother, ever the trooper, told me that she is looking forward to being able to sleep in her own bed during the hot summer nights. You see, in their un-airconditioned house, it gets mighty hot in the summer. Mom often went downstairs to the main floor, sleeping on a sheet on the thickly padded rug of the living room. This summer she will have her own bed right where she wants it. And she’s happy about that.
And, still, I can hardly breathe when I think about what lies ahead of her.