Bittersweet...

So, now I'm back in the US for a full week and it's been good to be home. Our trip to Sweden was bittersweet this time. So much cleaning up to do there and getting ready to move Alex's father into an assisted living. It felt like it was the end of something.

We took one day to drive into the Swedish countryside to revisit those special places Alex used to frequent when he was a kid. It was the best day of our trip and the views and vistas we saw were stunning. Truly beautiful. It made us rethink our desire to move to the Stockholm area. I think if we move we will move into a more rural area where we will not feel so closed in. Notice I said "if" we move. After this trip, our decision to move there is not so final as it was before. With both of Alex's parents in homes there is nothing to go back home to now except to visit them where they live and are being cared for. It's a strange, orphan-like feeling.

My experience in Sweden this time was marred by bad health and physical pain. I have a problem with the tendons and ligaments in my right shoulder which I didn't get looked at before we left. It worsened while we were there, probably due to over use, and by the time we got home I could barely stand it! I start therapy this week and I can tell you that even though I have a high tolerance for pain, this pain is making me insane. There just seems to be no relief no matter what I do.

It was good seeing friends and family for sure and we'll be sure to see them all again. I have a special place in my heart for Sweden. The sky is bluer there than I have ever seen. Even on a clear day here the blue cannot be matched. The clouds hang like cotton candy there and look as though you could touch them. The greens are vibrant and constant. White birch trees are plentiful and gather in forests so deep you could lose yourself. People are friendly to a point but mostly respectful of your feelings and your privacy. Wine and laughter flow freely. It's a wonderful place and one I know I will go to again and again.

My mother's things...

Recently, my 92 year old mother made the final move to go live with my sister, Patsy and her family. She has a lovely room there with a walk in closet, a private bath with one of those uberexpensive walk-in/close door/fill up tubs. She left behind the home she's lived in since 1970. It was the first house my parents ever owned that wasn't an apartment attached to their business.

The house had a real yard with a mammoth oak tree and enough space for my mom to have a garden. Which she did until she was 91. The house has two levels, the kitchen being in the basement level. My mom, at 92, just couldn't do the stairs anymore. Even getting in and out of the house was almost impossible for her. So, to my sister's she went.

Today, I went over there to get the things my mom wanted me to have - her microwave, a couple of chairs, her bed frame, some Christmas ornaments, a variety of cook books. I also got what was left of her blue and white Currier and Ives dish set. It's the set I remember us using at holidays when I was a really little kid. It's not a complete set anymore - age and careless children have seen to that - but it's wonderful to have it. I intend to use it too. Not just display it like some moldy memory.

I got her old desk too. I'm sitting at it right now. I love this desk. It's tan with some scroll work. Nothing really to look at. But the treasure lies inside. If you pull out the ledge above the top drawers on either side you'll see it. Years of kids scratching their names into the the wood. I'm there, all my sisters, most of the nieces and nephews. Pretty much anyone who's ever sat at this desk has etched their names into it. I love that. I also love that when I opened the middle drawer my mom had tucked away her pin cushion and sewing kit with the extra buttons. And it all smells like home.

It was a bit weird going over to my mother's now empty house and taking these things. It seemed too "final". But I know my mom is alive and doing well. She's safe now and better off where she is. And I get to enjoy her things while I still have her with me. How precious is that?

By the way, that house my parents bought in 1970? They paid cash and bought it outright. How much? They paid $14000. That's right...fourteen thousand. Hard to believe...