Love

I witnessed one of those quiet moments in life today that shows just how much a long-term relationship based on love and, more importantly, friendship, can mean.

Mom had surgery this morning to repair some damage and arthritis in her shoulder. When Dad brought her home, she was in a crazy amount of pain--she couldn't take any pain medication until she got some food in her system. Dad hastened to make her a smoothie while I fluttered around trying to help her get comfortable in her recliner. I got her pillow, a blanket. Ice water. Asked what she needed. Finally, she was able to take those two much-needed pills.

She was uncomfortable in her button-down shirt, so she asked Dad to help her change--no easy task, considering the sling she must keep her arm in for the next six weeks. While I did some more helpless fluttering, I watched Dad calmly help Mom maneuver into a loose t-shirt. The pain made her cry, it was so bad.

The good news is, she's finally feeling a bit better, and she gets to take another pain pill soon. She's relaxing in her recliner, wrapped in a blanket and getting occasional visits from Bella and Duchess. Dad and I are both doing what we can to help her stay comfortable--getting ice for her, refilling her water glass, getting her a cup of hot coffee or a small snack. It's just what you do for someone you love.

She apologized a few minutes ago for making us "wait on" her. I just scoffed, because really, what else would I do for the woman who gave birth to me, raised me, and nursed me through my many childhood bumps and bruises? She's one of my best friends in this world, so fluttering around making sure she has enough ice water to sip doesn't really seem like a big sacrifice to me.

It's times like this I'm glad I'm living at home--the next six weeks it will fall on Dad and I to keep the house running and our patient cheerful. It's nice that Dad doesn't have to do it all by himself, and I certainly don't mind helping.