Day 4 Part 4
Sep. 11th, 2010 11:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
outsdrI walked down the rest of the hill, snuffed out my cigarette and buried it in a pile of dirt, since on a previous trip my brother had scolded me for throwing the butts on the ground; he didn't want his son picking them and chewing on them (I did point out to him that while I would do so, he should probably also teach Cole not to eat things off the ground.) I joined the group of family members who were wandering around the outside of the old farmhouse, looking at the renovations my brother was making.
Many of the attendees had gathered at my brother's house. Where he lives is what will eventually become the attached garage to the finished farmhouse; by opening the garage doors it gives access directly to his living room. I was thirsty, and got a drink.
My nephew was wandering around the yard, so I decided to follow him. He "drove" his toy dump truck to the hill in the front yard, sat in the back, and rode it down the hill. He then drove it across the flat part that used to be a horse ring, and rode it again down the hill on the other side. I contented l watched the child, amused at how much energy he had and how easily he entertained himself. Soon, his head came bobbing up over the top of the lower hill.
He reached the top of the hill, and to my surprise, pulled up his shirt and lowered his pants. As he squatted, he looked around to see if I was still watching, and shouted up to me, "I'm POOPIN!"
This was too much for me to handle alone. My duties as an uncle have their limits.
I went over to my brother's house, and called for my sister-in-law.
"Janet," I said, "I need you."
"What is it?" she replied.
"Just come out here."
"What's going on?" asked my brother. "Her," said Janet, "just take Kyle." She handed him the baby she was holding and joined me outside.
"Is it Cole?" she asked. "Yes," I replied.
"Is he pooping?" she asked. "Yes," I replied.
She rolled her eyes and went back inside to grab some baby wipes. I led her to the front yard and pointed Cole out to her, far down in the field, where he was now happily playing with his dump truck. She rolled her eyes and made her way down to him, cleaned him up, and together they came back up to the house.
I raised an eyebrow at her. "Does this often, does he?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes again, and they disappeared into the house.
People were beginning to say their goodbyes and leave. By the time everyone was gone, and none left but immediate family, I was glad to see them go. See extended family can be a blessing; seeing them all at once is not, especially under the circumstances. Rick arrived with the bed of his truck full of all the flower arrangements from the funeral home. My sister took the living plants, some of the flowers went to Janet, and the rest were loaded in my car to take back to the nursing home with Grandma. We picked a bouquet of yellow roses for her to take to her room (the rest would be placed around the nursing home,) and a large grapevine wreathe was picked for her as well to hang on her door. When it was showed to her, she said, "Oh, I thought that was the ugliest thing there."
We just shook our heads. Typical Grandma.
I loaded her in the car, and we made the 30 minute drive back to the nursing home. There, a nurse helped us unload the flowers, and I took Grandma back to her room. As I walked past the door to my mother's old room, I still naturally felt the pull to turn in there like I always did before. It was still hard to think that there was no longer a reason.
I got Grandma to her room and settled as quickly as I could. I was ready for the day to be done.
On the way home I stopped and picked up a bottle of cherry Crush, a soda I love that's not sold in the midwest. Once back at my father's house, I changed my clothes and put the roses from my mother's casket carefully in my luggage. And saw The Letter.
When I first arrived, my father told me that my mother had written letters to be given to everyone after she died. He then handed mine to me; The Letter. I put it in my luggage for safe keeping until I was ready to read it. The longer I waited, however, the bigger The Letter became, full of Schrodinger writing. So many things in my head of what could be in there- would she list all the ways I had disappointed her over the years? Would she tell me how I had failed to live up to her expectations, how I hadn't made her proud? Would she deride me for living so far away, and for failing to be there when she needed me; failing to be there at her side when she died? No matter what I thought the letter would contain, none of it would exist until I actually looked at it, and I was not yet ready. I put The Letter back into my suitcase.
My father's computer still connected to the internet with dial-up. And it was slow dial-up, at that. A 33kbps connection at the best of times. I loaded up my email and settled in to wait the ten minutes it would take for the page to come up. It felt good to sit still for awhile; the day had been long, and I was exhausted. I tried to log into Yahoo messenger to chat with Andy; but as always the connection failed.
My father came over, and we talked a bit about the day. The subject of Donna came up, and he told me how he never expected her to get the reception that she had. I told him that while I meant it when I said that I didn't have a problem with her being there, it didn't mean I liked her, because I didn't.
"I think she's used you," I said. "I think she still does. What about Pat- Pat's nice- why don't you date Pat?"
He began to ask me about his computer. It's so slow, he said. What can you do to make it faster, he asked. Is it going to keep working, or should I replace it? How hard would it be to move everything to a new computer? What kind of computer should I get?
The typical questions the family computer expert gets whenever returning home.
I told him I could probably build him a nice computer far cheaper than he could buy one, but that the shipping would probably make up the difference in cost. For the most part, I was just too tired to think about it. He, however, was practically hyper.
"Let's go to Wal-mart," he said, "and look at the computers they have."
"Now?" I asked. It was ten o'clock. I wanted to go to bed.
"Yeah, now."
Off to Wal-mart we went. When Andy and I had gone back to visit for Christmas in 2007, we had done the same thing then- went to Wal-mart, bought a new computer, and transferred all his files to it. At the time, he bought the cheapest eMachines computer there was available. I warned him that it would probably last him around three years.
"I'm afraid if I don't get a new computer now, the one I have will break down as soon as your gone." I conceded that this would be bad. "Besides, I want one of those nice big flat screen monitors. And they're having a sale that ends at midnight!"
The computes that were on sale were sold out, which was just as well, because there was a reason they were on sale- they were underpowered and slow. But there was an HP package for $700 that would suit him nicely. After tracking down a salesgirl to rip open the box so I could check one of the components, and discussing things for 40 minutes while looking at other models, we decided to get the HP. Which was good, because the salesgirl hadn't been able to package it back up properly again, and I would have felt bad if we had just left it behind.
We left with the new computer, drove home, unloaded the new computer, and as it was nearing midnight, left it on the floor to be dealt with the next day. I think my father may have been a little disappointed that I didn't immediately begin working on it, but settled in to watch one of the dreadful TLC reality shows he likes, American Choppers, and finally, I was able to go to bed.
Many of the attendees had gathered at my brother's house. Where he lives is what will eventually become the attached garage to the finished farmhouse; by opening the garage doors it gives access directly to his living room. I was thirsty, and got a drink.
My nephew was wandering around the yard, so I decided to follow him. He "drove" his toy dump truck to the hill in the front yard, sat in the back, and rode it down the hill. He then drove it across the flat part that used to be a horse ring, and rode it again down the hill on the other side. I contented l watched the child, amused at how much energy he had and how easily he entertained himself. Soon, his head came bobbing up over the top of the lower hill.
He reached the top of the hill, and to my surprise, pulled up his shirt and lowered his pants. As he squatted, he looked around to see if I was still watching, and shouted up to me, "I'm POOPIN!"
This was too much for me to handle alone. My duties as an uncle have their limits.
I went over to my brother's house, and called for my sister-in-law.
"Janet," I said, "I need you."
"What is it?" she replied.
"Just come out here."
"What's going on?" asked my brother. "Her," said Janet, "just take Kyle." She handed him the baby she was holding and joined me outside.
"Is it Cole?" she asked. "Yes," I replied.
"Is he pooping?" she asked. "Yes," I replied.
She rolled her eyes and went back inside to grab some baby wipes. I led her to the front yard and pointed Cole out to her, far down in the field, where he was now happily playing with his dump truck. She rolled her eyes and made her way down to him, cleaned him up, and together they came back up to the house.
I raised an eyebrow at her. "Does this often, does he?" I asked.
She rolled her eyes again, and they disappeared into the house.
People were beginning to say their goodbyes and leave. By the time everyone was gone, and none left but immediate family, I was glad to see them go. See extended family can be a blessing; seeing them all at once is not, especially under the circumstances. Rick arrived with the bed of his truck full of all the flower arrangements from the funeral home. My sister took the living plants, some of the flowers went to Janet, and the rest were loaded in my car to take back to the nursing home with Grandma. We picked a bouquet of yellow roses for her to take to her room (the rest would be placed around the nursing home,) and a large grapevine wreathe was picked for her as well to hang on her door. When it was showed to her, she said, "Oh, I thought that was the ugliest thing there."
We just shook our heads. Typical Grandma.
I loaded her in the car, and we made the 30 minute drive back to the nursing home. There, a nurse helped us unload the flowers, and I took Grandma back to her room. As I walked past the door to my mother's old room, I still naturally felt the pull to turn in there like I always did before. It was still hard to think that there was no longer a reason.
I got Grandma to her room and settled as quickly as I could. I was ready for the day to be done.
On the way home I stopped and picked up a bottle of cherry Crush, a soda I love that's not sold in the midwest. Once back at my father's house, I changed my clothes and put the roses from my mother's casket carefully in my luggage. And saw The Letter.
When I first arrived, my father told me that my mother had written letters to be given to everyone after she died. He then handed mine to me; The Letter. I put it in my luggage for safe keeping until I was ready to read it. The longer I waited, however, the bigger The Letter became, full of Schrodinger writing. So many things in my head of what could be in there- would she list all the ways I had disappointed her over the years? Would she tell me how I had failed to live up to her expectations, how I hadn't made her proud? Would she deride me for living so far away, and for failing to be there when she needed me; failing to be there at her side when she died? No matter what I thought the letter would contain, none of it would exist until I actually looked at it, and I was not yet ready. I put The Letter back into my suitcase.
My father's computer still connected to the internet with dial-up. And it was slow dial-up, at that. A 33kbps connection at the best of times. I loaded up my email and settled in to wait the ten minutes it would take for the page to come up. It felt good to sit still for awhile; the day had been long, and I was exhausted. I tried to log into Yahoo messenger to chat with Andy; but as always the connection failed.
My father came over, and we talked a bit about the day. The subject of Donna came up, and he told me how he never expected her to get the reception that she had. I told him that while I meant it when I said that I didn't have a problem with her being there, it didn't mean I liked her, because I didn't.
"I think she's used you," I said. "I think she still does. What about Pat- Pat's nice- why don't you date Pat?"
He began to ask me about his computer. It's so slow, he said. What can you do to make it faster, he asked. Is it going to keep working, or should I replace it? How hard would it be to move everything to a new computer? What kind of computer should I get?
The typical questions the family computer expert gets whenever returning home.
I told him I could probably build him a nice computer far cheaper than he could buy one, but that the shipping would probably make up the difference in cost. For the most part, I was just too tired to think about it. He, however, was practically hyper.
"Let's go to Wal-mart," he said, "and look at the computers they have."
"Now?" I asked. It was ten o'clock. I wanted to go to bed.
"Yeah, now."
Off to Wal-mart we went. When Andy and I had gone back to visit for Christmas in 2007, we had done the same thing then- went to Wal-mart, bought a new computer, and transferred all his files to it. At the time, he bought the cheapest eMachines computer there was available. I warned him that it would probably last him around three years.
"I'm afraid if I don't get a new computer now, the one I have will break down as soon as your gone." I conceded that this would be bad. "Besides, I want one of those nice big flat screen monitors. And they're having a sale that ends at midnight!"
The computes that were on sale were sold out, which was just as well, because there was a reason they were on sale- they were underpowered and slow. But there was an HP package for $700 that would suit him nicely. After tracking down a salesgirl to rip open the box so I could check one of the components, and discussing things for 40 minutes while looking at other models, we decided to get the HP. Which was good, because the salesgirl hadn't been able to package it back up properly again, and I would have felt bad if we had just left it behind.
We left with the new computer, drove home, unloaded the new computer, and as it was nearing midnight, left it on the floor to be dealt with the next day. I think my father may have been a little disappointed that I didn't immediately begin working on it, but settled in to watch one of the dreadful TLC reality shows he likes, American Choppers, and finally, I was able to go to bed.
