Mom & Me Journals Histories: 1999 - 2001

    One last (jarring, I'm afraid, but not bad) reason I have had to neglect my favorite very early morning time, lately, to sleep is because as we prepare this house for its winter rest and gather our (my mother's) "stuff" for transfer she is an evening and late night person. "I've always hated to go to bed," she tells me, almost every night, and, I know, since she was a child, she has. Our seasonal gathering and transfer of "stuff" is something in which she wants to be involved (it is primarily her stuff, after all) and as long as she wants to, as long as she remembers to, I want her to so I make it happen. During the days of The Move I observe a sort of Mother Saving Time and switch my clock to hers. I believe this is part of what keeps her going and keeps her wondering enough about life to continue looking forward, wanting to see what lies ahead, even unto her death, which is an adventure in itself. My observance of her version of this Ancient Journey is something I would not give up for anything, not anything...