Reading Jerry's post about going quiet from my tablet at my mom's and driving home yesterday , 90+ miles alone and listening to music - I thought about the value of going quiet for me. Mom's going through chemo, lives a hoarder's life with my oldest sister - how they don't see how awful it is in that house is beyond me. Sis acts like she knows, yet keeps buying more stuff they don't need to pile upon the stuff that never gets put away. Slipping on my blinders to visit, stayed the night and we tackled one area, moving furniture, moving crap - and trust me, most of what we moved was useless crap; we threw away four hefty bags of stuff, and put most of the rest back in a new cleaned out area, piling it shoulder high. Why'd we put it back? I know, but, where else to put that much stuff in one day? Animal allergies, dust allergies; I took a pill before but still wound up having to sit outside for an hour to re-catch my breath, stop wheezing and coughing - I'm still coughing today, my eyes itch too. They have eight cats in a tiny two bedroom apartment - and an old dog that eats her own feet and my sister is tired of trying to stop her from doing so - yeah Deb, its pretty icky; she's 14 years old, hurts all over by the way she walks - is my sister being kind keeping her going? who knows, but its their life and I don't control them. (they have eight cats because people keep moving out and leaving their cats behind, I hope there is a special place in purgatory for these kinds of people, leave them out in the cold and make them dependent on strangers!)

I can't help sit with mom during chemo because it happens during the week when I have to work; but I can help by doing this, help sister try to get some control over the mess they live in. She's sort of aware of it, but its hard to fathom for me and I guess I don't have to understand it, just accept it and do what I can, change the things I can. We did a lot in one afternoon, but there are so many more afternoons to come. I can sit on the outside and condemn my sister and family that live close for letting things get so bad, but, I've visited before, its been getting bad for a very long time and I haven't DONE anything to help, just visited and gone back home - so where is my part of it, what do I own?

Mom has to have her bladder out after the chemo is done, and at 77 years old, I'm not sure she will even survive the surgery that is her best chance of survival despite the co-morbidities - I'm pretty sure that Home Health will not let her return to the house as it is, so it has to be cleaned up eh? So for a while my Saturdays will be spent going down to help clean; hopefully mom and sis will get into the cleaner living and start cleaning as they go rather than letting things go but again, no mine to dictate.

I am sitting in my living room enjoying my house, it isn't clean, trust me, i'm not a clean freak, but I see the clutter and I know it has to be cleaned up, maybe going to mom's house and helping their mess will get my own mess better organized. But I do so enjoy the peaceful quiet of my house, my life. The drive home is long and though I wish it weren't so far, I also like the distance because it allows my head to take a slow gentle transition from big city turmoil back to quiet country living. Where I sit, looking to my right are windows to the world, the birds are noisily going about their business, sun is bright and warm.

I do so "get" going quiet - the drive home alone was quiet (um, except for whatever music I chose, loud for some songs... ha!) I didn't have to talk to anyone, just enjoyed the peace and beauty of the Columbia River Gorge (if you've seen it you know it); I felt good, despite the wheezing in my chest, good because I'd helped and we got something done.

On the way home I Listened to The Wall by Pink Floyd a few times - for me it says that everything is just another brick in the wall of my life - maybe that isn't what the song is supposed to mean, but that is what it means to me, another brick in the wall - some bricks are good strong bricks, some are good bricks put in badly, some bricks are things I thought I wanted/needed, some bricks are purely rotten leaving my wall full of holes (gotta have ventilation eh?) everything that happens to me shapes me, makes me the person that I am today; the person i was five years ago (before my ex-A) and the person that I will be a year from now won't be who I am today because of the bricks that will be/have been added to my wall. Will my mother survive? Will I? No life guarantees eh? Will we get mom's house cleaned up and will it stay that way? who knows! Will I win the lottery, lose weight, gain weight, find true love? What bricks await me?

The beat goes on, Sonny and Cher croon in my head, drums keep pounding rhythm and I carry on. It is good to be home.