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(Continuing my one week visit to see my mother in California:)

Mom is home from the hospital after learning she has serious heart issues, and after choosing to forgo operations. Time with her is even more precious.

Just before my Mom comes out of her room, just before my first time to see her in two years, my sense of jittery expectancy is growing.  Will I have changed to her?   Will she seem changed and more fragile to me?  The house is the same as I remember it from many precious visits, even the atmosphere is the same.  Will it be different to be here?

The earth seems to shift, her walker comes down the hall, and I see my Mom.  She is smiling happily at me and all seems to shift into right again.  Even as we hug and catch up in the kitchen, I feel like all my senses are tuned to pay attention.  This is so important.  This visit is to help her, to hear her funny stories of growing up, to write them down as I can, to look at the beauty of her perfect white hair, get her coffee and soak up her gift of love like a dry sponge.  It is quite like going back and forward in time at the same time.  I have six days to live here as fully, and as aware as I can.  God has sent me here to know something, to do something, and to take something intangible, but precious, home.