Driving

 

I've been doing a lot of driving lately. Visiting my father-in-law, known to family as Papa, in a nursing facility. It's about a 30 minute drive and the last 15 minutes is through farm land; acres and acres of farmland with a smattering of farmhouses throughout.

It's a sparse landscape in the winter but having been driving this route for about 6 months, I know this is literally just a snapshot in time. The landscape changes continuously; new growth exerts itself aggressively as the seasons march on. In a few short months, this landscape will be green and fruitful again.

The water tower is my landmark. I know I'm getting close to the little town where Papa's living  when I see it rising above the fields.

 

It's a double-edged sword, this drive. The anticipation of seeing Papa is tempered by the anticipation of seeing him. Cancer is a wasting disease and Papa is wasting; he's down to liquids for his daily sustenance, all appetite and desire for food gone.

 

As I drive, I think about how thankful I am to have this time with him. We hold hands and listen to Frank Sinatra on the iPad while my husband pushes Papa's wheelchair around the block. We watch vintage TV shows and kiss his forehead. We ask him if he's in pain and tell him how much we love him. We hold him close and let him go at the same time.

That's why I do this; why I make creative time.

Because I can become immersed in the process, the permutations, the peacefulness of the creative zone. It makes a difference in my days when I can grab a few minutes to escape into that space, even if it's in my mind.

 

 

 Inevitably, it brings a small measure of happiness and balance to what can, otherwise, seem like a very chaotic world.