Lately I've been having a lot of dreams about being "home", my childhood home back on Hickory Street in Owosso, Michigan.  That's where home still is for me. Home is where the mom is and I've been missing her a lot lately because I feel helpless.  There's nothing like helplessness to make an adult want their mommy.

You must understand that for the past 15 years or so, my mommy spent a lot of time feeling helpless.  Emphysema sapped her strength and quieted her voice.  There were days when she couldn't speak much and we knew she was feeling poorly because if there was one thing she enjoyed, it was talking.

She was quick to give her opinion regardless of whether or not it was requested or if the advice she offered was pertinent to the situation.  She did it out of love, out of wanting to make the people she loved into better people.  "What you ought to do is..."  I miss hearing that.  I miss getting angry about the words that usually followed the ellipsis, wisdom for a different age and other circumstances.

One thing I could always count on her for was comfort when she knew I was ill.  There were times she doubted that my symptoms were part of an actual illness or condition.  Chronic appendicitis garnered me an angry, "If there's nothing wrong with you, I'm taking the fee for this one out of your hide."  But when Dr. Brown told her I was borderline with appendicitis, her attitude turned 180 degrees and we spent the weekend with her watching over me and after I was put in the hospital for the appendectomy, she walked to the hospital to visit me.  And that was a pretty big deal for my mom, a woman who battled agoraphobia for a time, to walk about half a mile by herself.  She was remorseful, but she set aside any self-pity to take care of me.

I think part of the reason I feel so badly about feeling so badly is that she would be telling me to suck it up and get back to work.  She's not here so I'm having to nag myself and I end up arguing with myself that if I go in to work, I'll pass out.  And there is no one who can supplement my income when I have to take time off.  I've had  a rough year with a condition that is best described as my heart and brain don't communicate as they should.  (Medical condition imitating life.)  I have exhausted my paid time off, but due to having FMLA (Family Medical Leave Act) I can take the time off, but I won't get paid.

I can hear my mother telling me to write.  I've been trying to write, but the preceding paragraphs took me close to an hour to write because focus is exhausting.  I woke up this morning and took a nap, but I could still hear Mom's voice telling me to write, to do something, anything lest my brain atrophy further.  And even though I know this is drivel not worthy of being read, I'm going to publish it anyway because it's a start.  Maybe I can shut off Mom's voice in my head despite the fact that we sounded a lot alike.  I'll try to remember to speak her words of encouragement and not her words of criticism.  But I will long for her hands stroking my hair as she rocked me.  It isn't soothing to sing to myself even though I have her voice.  Still, I hear her, "Stop crying, baby girl. You've got work to do."