I’m writing from the basement. It’s where I live with my husband, Glenn, and our golden retriever/border collie mix, Charlie Brown. We live in the basement of my parents’ home where they have lived since before I was born. I’m pretty sure we’re right where we are supposed to be and it’s a pretty big basement so it’s not as bad as it sounds. In a series of events that could only have been orchestrated by Someone with a bigger picture than I have, we have moved, incrementally, from our double-income-no-kids household in Bend to the situation we now find ourselves in: sharing my parents’ home.
But there’s more to it than just “moving-back-in-with-my-parents.” My mom’s health isn’t good, if I’m truthful, she has Alzheimer’s (as I write this she is heating Charlie’s water on the stove), and we’re here to give dad a helping hand. In reality it is simultaneously harder and better than I anticipated and desperately precious. And it turns out we all need a little grace from one another. This is our tale of grace.
Bless you Nancy, as you care for your folks. This is time you will never regret spending.
Love you Nanc’!