Saturday, January 21, 2006
Incentive
by venitha
"She said we have to stay til Christmas," Jim reported with resignation, lying dejectedly down in bed beside me.
It was the evening of what was easily my worst day in Singapore, and at the end of it, I hadn't been able to rally myself for our weekly call to Jim's mother, Marilyn. Instead, I had lain quietly in bed listening to Jim make excuses for me. I concentrated on Andrew Weil's breathing method - in four, hold seven, out eight - and cursed myself - is it hold seven or out seven? For God's sake, I can't even breathe right!
Weekly phone calls to Marilyn, who lives in our Colorado house, are a welcome taste of home, a necessary opportunity to go through our mail, and a pleasurable morale boost and sanity check for all three of us.
"She called it the trip of a lifetime," Jim added.
I groaned aloud. Marilyn, 79, was coming to visit for the holidays, at that point more than two months away. Aside from Jim, there is no one else who could then have asked me to stay in Singapore whose desire would have held more sway, would have held any sway. But I adore Jim's mother, knew what a special gift she was to me even before this last year, when she rallied after her husband's sudden death to be my Florence Nightingale. She drove me to endless doctor and physical therapy appointments while my knee slowly healed. She took me for long walks in my wheelchair while winter turned to spring. She stayed with me while Jim was in Singapore trying to salvage his job after one last pre-lunch bomb down White Out sabotaged our scheduled April departure.
I love her, and I owe her. And in no small part because of Marilyn's request, we lasted in Singapore until she made the trip of her lifetime.
Thank you, Marilyn, for your wonderful visit, for your son and for your family, for everything you do for us in Colorado, and for giving us the necessary incentive to stick it out here. We love you!
venitha
It was the evening of what was easily my worst day in Singapore, and at the end of it, I hadn't been able to rally myself for our weekly call to Jim's mother, Marilyn. Instead, I had lain quietly in bed listening to Jim make excuses for me. I concentrated on Andrew Weil's breathing method - in four, hold seven, out eight - and cursed myself - is it hold seven or out seven? For God's sake, I can't even breathe right!
Weekly phone calls to Marilyn, who lives in our Colorado house, are a welcome taste of home, a necessary opportunity to go through our mail, and a pleasurable morale boost and sanity check for all three of us.
"She called it the trip of a lifetime," Jim added.
I groaned aloud. Marilyn, 79, was coming to visit for the holidays, at that point more than two months away. Aside from Jim, there is no one else who could then have asked me to stay in Singapore whose desire would have held more sway, would have held any sway. But I adore Jim's mother, knew what a special gift she was to me even before this last year, when she rallied after her husband's sudden death to be my Florence Nightingale. She drove me to endless doctor and physical therapy appointments while my knee slowly healed. She took me for long walks in my wheelchair while winter turned to spring. She stayed with me while Jim was in Singapore trying to salvage his job after one last pre-lunch bomb down White Out sabotaged our scheduled April departure.
I love her, and I owe her. And in no small part because of Marilyn's request, we lasted in Singapore until she made the trip of her lifetime.
Thank you, Marilyn, for your wonderful visit, for your son and for your family, for everything you do for us in Colorado, and for giving us the necessary incentive to stick it out here. We love you!
venitha
