Birthday Lunch
the boy
Spytkowice 2021
Arrival 2021
I check K’s location in the morning, knowing what I’ll find. If there had been any issues, K would have contacted me. But there she is, safe in sound in Jablonka.
In the afternoon, we FaceTime a little while as K and E return from a walk to the river — the walk. I see immediately the changes: at least half a dozen new houses along the gravel road where, ten years ago, there was only one and where, when we left Poland in 2005, there were none. Not terribly impressive growth by Greenville standards, to be sure, but in a little village…
As for other pictures — perhaps tomorrow. Today was a rest day, a day with Babcia — as it should be.
Family Badminton
Helping
The Boy likes to help, so much so that it sometimes can get in the way. But often it is really sweet how he pitches in. Tonight, for example, he insisted on getting Papa’s evening water prepared, thickened with some magical mystery white powder that turns water into a pudding-like goop that’s easier for Papa to swallow and less risky as well. In the meantime, K was preparping Papa’s dinner: warm blueberry cobbler and ice cream. Soft, easy to chew, tasty — a perfect dinner.
E then excitedly asked if he could help Papa eat.
“Of course,” we said. “Just make sure you go slowly: it’s difficult for him to swallow at times.” And so he stood patiently by Papa’s bed and helped him eat.
Nothing brings Papa back more completely than his grandchildren. Sometimes, when I walk in and greet him, I get no response. He’s off somewhere, seeing something, hearing something — but not there. Then E can walk in right behind me and say, “Hey, Papa,” and he perks right up: “Hey, little buddy.”
Once Papa is ready for his night’s sleep, I headed out to walk the dog while the Boy and K played cards. Last night, it was chess with me.
And L? She’s fourteen — just a little too cool to spend too much time with the family. Plus, she was at work today: she needed some down time.
Searching for Normalcy
"Normal" is a fluid idea in our home these days with Papa's condition, but with two kids in the house, we also have to try to keep the old "normal" part of our new normal.
Yesterday, for example, I took the Boy swimming in the afternoon (the Girl was not interested in going just to float around with a bum ankle if she didn't have a friend with her, and it was too late to arrange all that), and afterward we went out for our favorite Boys'-Night-Out meal: Mexican. A taco and enchilada with beans and rice, all covered with sauces and queso?! Who wouldn't love that?
"The only problem with going out for Mexican," the Boy explained, "is that it's so easy to stuff yourself." That's certainly true.
In the afternoon today, I spent a lot of time with the dog, kicking the ball for her to retrieve. Again and again and again.
She came back in a slobbering, exhausted mess.
Consolation
When Papa was in his late thirties or early forties (I can’t really remember), we had a family membership at the local YMCA, and he liked to play basketball. He didn’t like playing with men his age — too slow. He played with the twenty- and twenty-one-year-olds. It was hard and aggressive, and while I can’t really remember how good Papa was at basketball, I do remember how tenacious he was, how he never gave up.
One time he was breaking for the basket, forcing his way through a couple of defenders, when he leaped, shot, landed on his ankle at an angle, and fell in agony with a snap that everyone heard.
As Papa lay there on the floor, rolling about in agony, one of the other players leaned into the group huddled about him and said, “If it’s any consolation to you, sir, you made the basket.”
Tonight, L made a block that won the point but resulted in an ankle injury. A young lady on her team told her, “But L, you won the point.”
The Other Sister
Papa grew up with six siblings: four sisters and two brothers. The first sibling to go was his youngest brother, who was killed in Vietnam in 1972. I'm named after him but never met him. It was about thirteen years before the next sibling passed, Papa's older brother, who had cancer and died in the mid-eighties. And then there three and a half decades before another sibling passed, followed by another sibling just a year or two later.
And so now there are three of them: a younger sister, Aunt D, who visited Sunday, and the first-born of the entire group of seven, who visited today. Aunt Y doesn't get out much, and the last time she was at our house was for Papa's birthday, probably close to a decade ago. We all used to meet at Aunt D's house for Thanksgiving, but the last time we did that must have been five or more years ago. The last time all three of them were together was at Nana's funeral. What a sad thought that that might indeed be the last time the three surviving siblings are together. But I guess that's the nature of reunions as we all get older.
Afternoon Game
Cards
In the morning,
and in the afternoon.
