Today

Today it is easy for me to see my time with my mother as a gift. Today, this day when it is my sister's turn to interrupt her life. This day when I have returned from a day surrounded by people from my hospital, nurses, physicians, therapists, social workers and others with their only connection to us the fact that we cared for someone they love, surrounded by them and engaged in earnest discussion of clinical ethical issues we face every day and how we can make it better, work harder to help support our patients, our staff and each other. This day of retreat from the hospital itself to the shore of Sebago Lake at a lodge with gardens and views and food that was a gift in itself. This day her gift is easy to see.

Her gift to me is time. Time to slow my pace, time to remove myself from the frenetic pace and responsibilities that have become my life and sit with her as she recounts her time, her pace, her life. It is easy to see this gift on this day.

I see her gift and I am grateful for it, today. My challenge now is to keep her gift in sight when I am there, when it is my turn again to pack my bag, leave my home and family and sit at her house and hear the same stories, look at the same pictures and want to go home.