Mom & Me Four Archive

    My mother is not ready to be aroused. Yesterday was an unusually fey day for her. Not sure why, but it was: She looked for "mother" a lot; asked me, repeatedly, where "Gail" was but seemed unable to clarify for me who I was, despite my questions; exhibited unusually sly, playful countenance and mannerisms all day, as though she was intimating that she had the goods, now, on the Universe but had been sworn to secrecy. When she retired last night (which reminds me, I've got some Dailies updating to do), she was up and down so much, engaging me in coversation about such a variety of subjects (most of which she related, in some curious ways, to animals...she spent a good part of the day insisting on watching Animal Planet) that I would have to say she finally retired at around 0200 this morning.
    I'll try her again in a few minutes but, I wanted to mention, as I contemplated her falling immediately back into sleep after attempting to awaken her, I was suddenly struck by how much courage it takes to be Ancient. I've heard and read this before, even thought I'd considered it, but, damn, it takes a lot more than I'd ever figured. Her day, yesterday, was a study in courage, and it wasn't fraught with all the courage-dictating demands that are implicit in the lives of lots of Ancient Ones in nursing homes and assisted living facilities, separated from long-lived-in community.
    Do I have that kind of courage? I wonder. I know, from observing my mother, that quite a bit of it is manufactured on the spot, as few of us, including my mother, can (or were able to) realistically anticipate, even in this era of information glut, what Ancienthood will ask of us. I know that when I think about specific circumstances in my mother's life and her responses, my frequent reaction is, "Whoa, I could never adjust to that!" I'm sure millions of Ancients have, pre-Ancienthood, thought the same, and yet, here they are, adjusting and continuing, regardless of, well, anything.
    Maybe the trick is this: Anticipation is all right; prophecy is not. I've often, throughout the past five decades, at least, considered my mother unusually, though quietly, courageous. I know, though, that she has not considered the same of herself. She considers that she's simply done what is required of her. Something tells me that if a video of her future life had been played for her when she was, say, in her 30's or 40's, she would have said, "Oh, no, I'm sure I'll be cut down long before that happens to me! I certainly hope so!"
    And, yet, despite our desires for our future lives, those lives have their own complicated, ever changing, mysteriously influenced agenda. In so having, and in so continuing their indomitable march, they reveal qualities within us we would never expect ourselves to display.
    At the very least, I hope I have the courage to decide to explore what my Ancienthood, should I be destined to cross the threshhold into it, has in store for me.