Zwerglipatch March 21, 2011 3:08 p.m.
Here at Zwerglipatch Cottage, in Hauppauge, a cold rain drizzles continuously mixed with huge, Spring snowflakes. This is predicted to be the pattern for this week.
Yesterday was Mom and Dad Meyer’s sixty-third wedding anniversary. Dad had good news in that he may be sent home in a day or two. Physically, the bleeding seems to have stopped and the bacterial infection successfully treated. However, he is not a well man. Mom shakes her head when asked about him. I fear for her physical strength. The next few weeks purport not to be happy, Springtime weeks. All I can say is: We shall see.
In two weeks, René and I will be preparing for our springtime trip. This year we are going to Albuquerque and Santa Fe, New Mexico. Needless to say, we do not have to prepare too much. We’re ready!
Zwerglipatch March 22, 2011 7:18 a.m.
René came home around nine last night. His confused father had a rough time. All I will say is that he began yelling, in the hospital, of how all the doctors were trying to murder him, or, have him committed to the “loony house”. What will happen if he comes back to Zwerglipatch Cottage? I, myself, dread his arrival. I dread the fact, too, that Mom Meyer is neglecting her own health. These two people are, in my eyes, both unhealthy. Neither listens to reason for neither can think properly. As a witness, and supposed caregiver, my caring is waning. In fact, I actually awoke this morning with this thought: I’ll go on a pre-vacation to Manhattan. I’ll run away from this horror — for it is a comical horror. One can’t make up this plot with lines that would be edited as not being real. This thought I had was fleeting. I will stick by René. Both of us know days like this could happen. We did not expect them so soon. Who does? These days will pass. It’s not as if this experience is new to me. I’ve lived it before. I don’t want it to interfere with me again.
Zwerglipatch March 23, 2011 11:30 a.m.
This cold, rainy November-like day has Dad Meyer hating to be in the hospital. He had to have a feeding-tube for ten hours. He is now groggy and thinks he is in the dentist’s office.
I am sipping tea and watching the Redpolls and the Juncos in the front gardens. It is relaxing. But, I feel catatonic.. Today is a soft choral-music, soothing day. Thank goodness for music! Without music, I would be lost.
I talked to a Friend with whom I share a problem. We are both having the problem of saying “No!” When any Friend of ours is in need, we say “Yes!” without thinking. We have culled saying yes to a minimum. However, that word, or deed, can get us in an anxious feeling of trouble. We decided we will not, rather, can never change. We felt that leaving it at that is enough.
Writing this, today, is enough for me!
Zwerglipatch March 24, 2011 11:55 a.m.
As a perfect, Spring snow melts, the dripping are tears of mourning for Elizabeth Taylor.
Yes, Elizabeth is no longer with us. Yesterday, she breathed her last on this planet. She was, and is, a Friend to many. She used her influence to make Life better for so many people. I do regret never writing to thank her. I should have, I know. I haven’t an excuse. I will miss her presence.
As I sit looking at the snow melt, the Spring colors pop up through the thin, white blanket. Crocus are confetti.
Yesterday’s activities have worn me out.
Oh, this sky is blue. I recall laying down upon fields of snow at Garand Manor in Hancock, New Hampshire, looking up at the clarity above me. If I was lucky, I would see an airplane. My life was full of imagination. Today, my Life is full. I cannot rush. I will watch the dripping snow. I shall pine for Elizabeth Taylor.
