We visited Aunt Ginny today. She and Nancy now share living situations, both barely mobile, both living in a house with 3-5 other women needing round-the-clock care. It is a 2.5 hour drive from Aunt Ginny’s home of how-ever-many decades to the personal care home where she now resides. The drive took us through landscapes that are as barren as they are beautiful. Countryside that seems willing to hold us all, in our quirkiness, in our infirmities, in our tomfooleries.
Aunt Ginny was quite chatty, mostly entertaining us with nonsensical stories, interrupting us whenever we tried to interject the shortest sentence. I asked her to tell us stories – and she did. They were fantastical stories, unusual stories, stories that were true only on certain planets. Some might feel the need to correct her when she is glaringly out of touch with reality, but I just say pfffft and join her in conversation wherever she is at any given moment. It’s better than any carnival ride, and if she could remember afterwards, I’m betting she’d feel quite validated.
Note: Posting across the street from a plane graveyard which is also the first official spaceport in the USA.
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She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
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