Pancakes

I'm noticing more and more my Dad's regression as my son matures. My son is fairly autonomous now as far as getting around, limited only by how long a distance he wants to walk. We're lucky to live within walking distance of downtown, schools and our church, so his feet can take him pretty much wherever he needs to go. Dad used to like to walk a lot too.

There was a pancake supper last night at our church. I dropped them both off at the church on my way to the music school. I went inside to make sure at least a few people knew that he was there without me. I had told my son do not let his Grandad walk home - even with him - since it would be dark out, and there are no sidewalks on that street. Even though it's a short distance back home (our house used to be the church rectory, after all), he can't see well as it is, less so at night. I told the person who had asked that I'd be returning at 8:30 and would pick them back up then. It seems silly for them to have to wait so long because of a short distance, I know.

Another woman heard me and said she'd bring them back home, bless her!

The point of this story is that my son no longer needs to be driven anywhere in town; now my Dad is the one who can't be out on his own, needs to be watched, needs to be taken care of. Caring for him feels like my son roughly around age 10.

The other day I had bought a pair of "isolation" ear buds for myself. I love listening to music of course, the purer the sound, the better. Afterwards, I realized I will never be able to use them, for the same reason I can't spend large chunks of time in my 3rd-floor office; I need to be always listening in case something goes wrong in the house.

Several months ago, a friend suggested to my Dad that he should go to the local senior center during the day. It's free, even better.

He didn't want to. What's wrong with being home?

Well, nothing. . . unless you're me. I am going to make a point of taking him there occasionally.

For me.