Life

A few weeks or so ago my Mother broke her hip. She fell out of bed ending up head down, feet up, doing all kinds of unnatural splits. Brave woman. She had the sense to get up, recognize something wasn’t quite right, ignore the blood dripping from her ear where she smacked it, and pick up the phone to call my Father. He was out on his morning walk and just getting back home. An Ambulance was called for, no lights or sirens but still. No one needs to start their day that way. As my Mom said later, she got to meet 5 really hunky men and take them on a ride to the hospital.

In general both my parents enjoy pretty good health these days. My father had a heart bypass 7 years ago, a pace maker implanted a few years later, but now getting along just fine. This is not the first time my mother has had broken bone issues. She was doing a Spiderman thing a when she fell from the kitchen cabinet and busted up her ankle. She spent many weeks in a wheelchair then. This time, she was up and walking within a day of surgery. And was able to go home in 6 days. Walking.

But I worry. I dislike the fact that my parents are getting older. Old is relative because I still see myself being 17. If it wasn’t for a little thing called “life” I’d still be that crazy fucked up teenager with no real care. Responsibility would be someone else’s. Understanding of the real world hidden by the ignorance of youth. And I’d be okay with it all. No real job, no mortgage, no care of me having to be the responsible adult in the room. I would always know that my parents would be there and take care of me.

Yeah but… life. It happens. Time goes by. Each of us moving from innocent little child to rambunctious teen; Stepping out in the world as a young adult, then comes full blown adulthood; Retirement where we get to enjoy being care free again, and then we get old.

Now I best be gettin’ back to payin’ my mortgage.