The Move and After

My mom had been talking about moving to Winston Salem almost since the day my dad died. She talked about moving to Little Rock first. That's where my sister was. She offered to buy a townhouse for my sister. My sister wisely said no knowing that one day mother would call that favor and move in.

About five or six years ago, when mother came out, she asked to start looking at condos. She actually put a hold on some new units over by Wake Forest but let that lapse. I figured it was just talk and wasn't worried about it. I was in no hurry for this to happen.

Then she got sick. One winter she got pneumonia or something as serious, and in her version of events, no one would take her to the doctor. She was so sick she crawled around the house, so she decided to move here so that Ron and I could take care of her if she ever got that sick again.

She wanted to move into the boy's rooms with the bathroom in between. We told her that wouldn't work. The boy's weren't finished coming home. They'd not graduated from college/grad school yet. Even when they did we'd like for them to have a place to stay. There was a unit right across the street from us. That would be nice -- a little close but nice. She could walk over for dinner occasionally, go to the grocery store or shopping with us. She wasn't interested in that though, so we looked for something else and she eventually found something by the church.

Now the adventure began.

Ron offered to fly out and drive back out here with her, but Mother would never give us a firm date. She got Ann to do it instead and she'd been fussing that we weren't there helping. When she got to Winston Salem, she had no idea when the moving van would get here. It was almost a week later.

She wanted to help in the Media Center so I got Kathleen to train her, but she never would start working. She went to Sunday School with Ruth Ann once and talked about how terrible the teacher was, so she never went again. She signed up to work in Children's Bible Fellowship, but she complained about Sherri and the people in her class all year. She went to one of the Senior Adult Luncheons, but no one called her, so she didn't go back. She wanted to work in Children's Choir, so I introduced her to Gale Foster. I guess they didn't know they were supposed to call her either. This past year, she has gone to a class of very old women and felt at home, but she's made no friends.

She has made very good friends with two women in her complex, Barbara and Mary Ellen.

The week school started, Ron gets a phone call from Mother while he is on the golf course. She's upset, but too upset to talk. He calls me, I call her. I go over. I call Ann before I go. I don't know what I'll meet. We pray.

She's miserable. She's got no friends. She's lonely. Her driver's license has expired. She can't pass the test. She wants to go home. She's never been in such debt.

She's been telling Ann all this with a whispered "Don't tell Ron and Bitsy," so I know, but I don't know.

I walk her through. "Where's home?"

"Arkansas."

"If we could get you there, would that make you happy?"

"I don't know. I don't have anywhere to stay now."

"What if we could find somewhere for you to stay?"

I asked enough questions to circle it back down to the fact that her drivers license has expired. Now she let this happen, but I don't bring that up. She's known since she moved here it would happen. She took it twice in the first week she was here and failed it. She said she went again but can't pinpoint for us when that other time was. She waited until the week school starts to make an issue over it when it expired on her birthday in July. The timing is suspicious . . .

I took her out to eat lunch when all was said and done. I asked her if she'd like to try a different Sunday school class with one of my friends. Ruth Ann's class has a new teacher and they have raved about her. That teacher is a friend of mine too. Maxine's teacher is excellent. How would that be? Oh, that would be wonderful! Both ladies have taken mother's number. I brought Mother in so they could work out the details. Told them both she'd not made friends where she was. Told them that she'd like to go with either of them. Where is she? Why isn't she here this week? I don't know. I can't make her come. I appreciate your efforts.

Mother said that she thought about going to a driving school. I told her that was an excellent idea. I would find one for her to go to. She wanted my help preparing for the test. I told her I'd make flash cards if I could take her book. This was Friday afternoon. Sunday morning she asked for her book back. I hadn't gotten flash cards made yet because it was the first week of school. She asked Ron to make sure she got to the grocery store each week. He said he'd do that. I gave her the school's name and number I found that was conveniently located so that Ron and I could get her there.

The students returned on Wednesday. Ron called the next Saturday and took Mother to the grocery store on that day. Sunday he picked her up for church after he dropped me off as is our custom and we went out for lunch. Monday she called and asked about school. This caught me off guard. For a few minutes she acted like she cared. Then she said, "I'm going to put some pressure on you. I need some help with this test. Will you help me?" Ann had been here over the weekend. She'd drilled Mother all weekend, but I hadn't done enough. We picked her up for dinner, and Ron casually asked her when her drivers license expired and she actually said it had a few more days on it. She lied. He said, why don't you see if you can get your Arkansas license renewed online. I suggested he try to do that for her while she was over our house. When he looked it up, the instructions said that it expired on the birth date and he read that to her. She had to admit then that it was expired.

He drilled her while I fixed dinner. She hasn't called the driving school. She has no intention of calling them. She got someone else to take her to the grocery store the next weekend.

Ron called twice the morning of the letter. He most likely won't call again.