Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

Author Archives: dawnkinster


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Lonely

I’ve been wondering, lately, what it’s like to be bedridden, with failing eyesight, sitting for more than a year in a small room, dependent on other people to do everything for you.

I’ve been wondering what it’s like to never know what your next meal will be, but being certain you won’t want to eat any of it. Except the ice cream.

With Buddy

What is it like to know you’ll never have a piece of fresh fruit, or your favorite holiday meal again. To spend your days waiting. For visitors, for your medications, for someone to change your sheets, bring you another blanket, a fresh pillow.

What’s it like to know the only escape from this room will be death?

She and I had a nice visit on Monday afternoon. She was in a good mood; the sun was shining and she let me open the blinds so she could see the light. She told stories from the old days, stories about her husband and her son, long gone before her, stories about growing up in northern Minnesota and the winters there.

She was surprised and a little proud of the fact that she was a hundred and two and a half years old. She never imagined she’d outlive so much of her family, so many friends.

The last birthday party.

Tuesday she was less jovial. Her clothes weren’t hung up correctly, the light hurt her eyes, lunch had been terrible, the staff wasn’t helpful.

Mostly she was lonely.

And that’s my one regret. That there wasn’t some way to keep her entertained, to get more people to visit, even for a few minutes, to convince her to get out of bed and into her wheelchair to explore the facility.

A few years ago during happier times.

I wish I had taken her fresh grapes and half a banana last week. Or that personal pan pizza from Pizza Hut she talked about my last day with her. Oh I know I baked her favorite cookies on occasion, and I brought her flowers from our garden, and a pretty white tree with pink bows and birds on it that my sister made for her. I know most people would think I did enough.

But she was lonely.

And that’s why I’m not sad that she escaped her room Saturday morning. Today her eyes work just fine and she’s enjoying the company of her husband and her son and all her sisters and many of her brothers. Today she’s hugging her mom again, and spending time with her dad. Today she’s dancing again. And best of all, today she is no longer lonely.

Aunt V’s 100th birthday

A few months ago she and I talked about what might be waiting on the other side. She didn’t want to talk about that much, she insisted she didn’t want to leave us, that she’d miss us once she had to go. I asked her if she’d try, once she was there, to find a way to give me a sign that she was alright. She grinned and said she’d be sure to do that.

So today begins my wait. I’ll be waiting to see what she comes up with, how she’ll let me know she’s safe and warm and happy. I know in my heart that she is.

But for now I’m just a little lonely.

Last Monday, it was a good day.


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Randomness

Snow attack on the back yard.


It’s snowing here in lower Michigan. Nothing surprising about that, it is after all early February. They say we’ll get five or more inches and that it will snow all day.

Maybe all weekend.

With the weather forecast in mind I stopped at the grocery store on my way home last night. I and about a hundred of my best friends shopped mindlessly, wandering up and down the aisles not sure what I wanted, not sure what I had at home, just sure that I needed something.

Goldfinch scans his food options.

Pushing my shopping cart across the parking lot into the wind driven snow I noticed a woman in a car driving out of the lot. Something about the way she held her head, or her haircut, something about her made me think, for a moment, that it was Janet Yellen. Her last day as Chair of the Federal Reserve was just last week.

Sometimes things are just upside down.

Obviously, now that she had time, she needed to stock up before the snow arrived just like me. It didn’t occur to me that it was highly unlikely she’d be in my town in rural Michigan on a snowy Thursday night.

This much snow makes me want to drink too.

No, the reason I discounted the whole idea was that certainly Janet Yellen doesn’t shop for her own groceries.

Snow can be very isolating.

Or does she?

It’s warmer in a crowd.


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It’s a winter wonderland!

Katie here!

It’s a perfect day to play!

HEY! Mama’s been complaining about the snow and I had to point out that some shelties never even get to see snow! In fact we were just reading over at Arron and Arthur’s site, that they were playing in something called sea snow! Go see, it’s really cool, and it’s nothing like my snow here in Michigan! It jiggles!

This is one of my trees.

I’d sure like to see it, I’m a traveling kind of girl you know, always up for an adventure. I have to say it’s been kind of boring around here. I go outside and do my business and sometimes mama takes me for a walk through the neighborhood. But geeze.

Mama needs to stop taking so many pictures.

Oh wait. I did have some excitement last week, but not the kind I like. Mama took me really early Friday morning on a car ride and we ended up at my vet! MAMA!! We were just at my vet a couple weeks ago and I got a clean bill of health, so why were we there again!

And even worse? Mama left me there!

Now things get a little fuzzy in my recollection at this point. I know a nice girl picked me up and took me in the back. She had to pick me up because I refused to come out from behind mama’s legs. This made my mama tear up for some reason. I don’t know. Mama is weird like that.

Mama and Daddy planted these trees for me before I was even born!

Anyway, next thing I know I’m in a crate and all woozy and my leg is shaved and they have an IV in and I’m really really hungry and then I take another nap. After a million years they take me out of the crate and I pull on my leash looking for a way out of there and they open a door and there’s mama!

She’s trying to pick me up and hug me and I’m pulling for the front door. No time for kisses mama! We’ve got to blow this pop stand before they find out I’ve escaped!

Hey! Wait for me mama!

I have no idea what that adventure was all about, but mama says my toothies look nice and shiny. Whatever mama.

So now she owes me. BIG time. Yesterday I was still sort of sleepy and pretty quiet, but I’m BACK NOW MAMA! I spent today asking to go out and play in the snow. We’ve been out several times.

Tastes good!

I make mama throw snowballs for me to catch. And then we chase each other around the trees in the backyard. And mama is letting me sniff stuff out there as much as I want even while she’s getting super cold and wet. I make sure to spend extra time with my nose in the snow just to aggravate her. I think it’s working.

It’s still snowing here, I think we’ll get about 5 inches today. That’s a perfect amount, not to deep for me to run around in, but deep enough to get inside mama’s boots.

What’s that over there??

Yep, today was perfect. I expect tomorrow will be too; I plan on asking to go out four or five times, and I know she feels bad enough about the vet that she’ll stop what she’s doing and go out to play with me.

I just love snow!

We have an agreement, mama and me, if she takes me somewhere bad one day, she has to do fun stuff with me for about 5 or 6 days after to make up for it. It’s taken her awhile to come around, but I think she gets it now.

Mama. I think I’ll keep her.

Guess I’ll take a nap now.


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Stretch

Some people, at the beginning of each year, pick a word they’d like to focus on for the next twelve months. Last year I picked stretch, hoping to remind myself as often as possible to try new things, keep an open mind, think about stuff in different ways.

I wasn’t always successful – this past year has been a challenge for me, especially in the open mind department. But I did do a lot of different things, traveled more than usual and tried to spend as much time as possible in my tent in the woods.

Now here it is February 1 and I don’t know what my word is for 2018. It hasn’t seemed to be a priority to me to figure one out. Or maybe it’s just that nothing has popped into my head. I guess I want the word choice to be easy without the more difficult analysis and deep thought that might well be required.

I guess I’m still stretching.

I took a water color class in January, four weeks, an hour and a half a week, held at our local community center just half a mile down the road. The last session was last night and I brought all my ‘projects’ home.

None are works of art, most aren’t even finished. The purpose of the class was to introduce us to different techniques used in water color, not to produce a stunning piece of frame-able art.

Good thing that wasn’t the goal.

Anyway, my purpose in talking about all this is to remind you (and me) to mix it up a little. Don’t worry your way through today the same way you worried your way through yesterday. Pause and take a moment to breath. Look for something fun to do, even if it’s only a few minutes a week.

Try something new. Make something pretty or interesting or sweet. Spend time with other people, share a laugh or a cookie or a pot of paint.

During these dark winter days spread a little color in your life and share it with us. We could all use the pick me up as we move toward spring.


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“Happy Birthday Wolfie”

Yesterday was Wolfgang Mozart’s 262nd birthday, and what better way to celebrate than to spend an evening with the Ann Arbor Symphony enjoying their Mozart Birthday Bash.

Did you know Wolfgang wrote his Symphony No. 1 at the ripe old age of eight? And that Mozart had a favorite pattern of notes, three notes rising, the fourth falling, which were included in both his first symphony, written as a child, and his last, Symphony No. 41, a symphony he probably never heard performed before his death at age 35?

I didn’t know any of that either.

Last night we learned all that and were privileged to hear both Symphony No. 1 as well as Symphony No. 41. And though you could clearly hear his childlike interpretation of music in the first, it was much more intricate that I could have imaged at age eight.

And Symphony No. 41? The fourth movement was my favorite, the most intense, the most intertwined, the most triumphant. It’s eight and a half minutes long. Get a cup of tea or coffee and settle back to listen, it will be time well spent. There’s so much going on in this movement, let it take you where it will.

Now, take a moment to listen to the first notes of Symphony No. 1. The juxtaposition between that first symphony and the very last symphony movement he ever wrote was breathtaking. Isn’t it amazing what he created within his short lifetime?

And on top of all that, the evening’s guest soloist, Chad Burrow, performed Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A Major. On a basset clarinet. Be still my heart.

All in all it was a special evening for this clarinetist.

As I sat listening to the symphony building up to the final moments, the music swelling, the entire hall entranced, I gazed up, lost in the music, and wondered. On this birthday was Mozart’s music being played all across the world? Were there concert halls and high school auditoriums and living room stereos playing Mozart in celebration? And was he listening from somewhere, tapping his toe, smiling a bit wistfully, happy to hear his work, glad not to be forgotten?

I like to think he was.

So, as Maestro Lipsky said last night – Happy Birthday Wolfie. Thank you for your gift to us all. I hope you enjoyed the Ann Arbor Symphony’s gift to you.

I know we did.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA


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Ambushed

Ambush: Make a surprise attack from a concealed position.

I’m trying to declutter the house in preparation for the painter. We’ve lived here a long time, and, I guess I haven’t put things away as promptly as I might have.

I thought I’d start with the guest bedroom – how hard could it be to sort through the stuff piled on the dressers in there? I was sure most of it could be tossed.

But under the piles of old sheet music, bad clarinet reeds, the patterns for sweaters I might have wanted to knit once upon a time, the maps of campgrounds and parks I’ve visited, under all that detritus, was a stack of Christmas cards.

I know I keep Christmas cards way too long. They sit in a basket on the kitchen counter until the next holiday season comes along. And then I have to just toss them all at once, I can’t look through them or I won’t be able to heave them into the trash. So why would a stack of Christmas cards be sitting on a dresser in a guest room?

I shouldn’t have looked.

They are from 1997; cards and holiday letters from many people who are long gone. Cards from people who are gone from my life because relationships faded, divorces happened, or they moved and we just lost touch. And an awful lot of them have died, including one of my best friends, my adopted up north grandma, my father-in-law (that’s him in the center), my sister-in-law, and my own parents.

Merry Christmas, circa 1997

So I’ve sorted through the stack, and have saved the very special hellos and happy holidays, the handwritten notes and newsy letters of those that have gone ahead, and tossed the rest into the trash. But, man, being ambushed by so many memories sure took the wind out of my cleaning sails.

And if you’re wondering how the paint decision is going, I went back to Lowe’s and got four more samples this morning.

It’s complicated.

More of the same.