In the midst of winter, I finally learned
that within me there lay an invincible
summer.
~Albert Camus
Snow
this morning on the way in to work and I once again recall the harsh winter
weather of 16 years ago.
My
81-year old mom had been a widow for two and a half years. Except for some
housekeeping and errand help, she lived alone in the home she and Dad had
occupied since 1983.
I
lived 37 miles from Portland and the East County area where I worked and where
Mom lived. I spoke with her daily and at least twice a week stopped by after
work to visit.
That
particular winter set records for freezing rain and record-setting snowfall.
Power lines fell and large trees toppled—especially in the wind-tunnel-like
area where my mother lived.
When
TV news informed us that all power was out in her section of Portland, I packed
some clothing and made plans to stay with Mom as long as necessary. “…as long
as necessary” turned out to be six days.
I
nailed blankets and tarps across the hallways, lit candles, turned on the gas
fireplace and pulled Mom's recliner up close to the warmth. When she settled in I wrapped her in blankets from the bed. She took it all in stride (she was a North Dakota
gal, after all!).
Much
about those days is sweetly memorable to me; the two of us talked and laughed,
reminisced and remembered—at times tearfully, most often with shared delight.
Outside:
A white, completely silent landscape. Inside: Mom wrapped head to toe in
blankets, firelight flickering across her beautiful, serene face, outlining the
sharp bone structure; the skin of her small and delicate hands stretched taut
across blue veins, reminding me of a baby bird just out of the
shell.
People don't notice if it's winter or summer
when they're happy.
~Anton Chekov
