Day: April 7, 2018

I love to watch Izzy eat. He has great authority and bearing. We’re off to Brattleboro, Vt. for the night. Back Sunday morning.

A close friend of Joan’s send a message to thank me for spending time with her. She said it was difficult to visit Joan sometimes, quite often she didn’t remember her, and this was painful for her. She appreciated seeing her on the blog and staying in touch with her in that way.

Joan and I have a strong connection with one another. She is full of love and generosity, and  we each see something in the other that is strong and positive. I brought Joan a stuffed cat yesterday – I sit next to her at the Bingo Games and we look for matching numbers together.

She was happy to see the cat, she named her “Joy.” I went out to get a cup for water and when I came back I asked Joan how Joy was doing, and she looked puzzled, and asked me how I knew her cat’s name. I said I had just given her the cat and was present when she was named, and Joan said “oh, thank you.”

There is something especially poignant about memory loss, Joan is always trying to put her world in context. Memory loss can be boring, it cuts the patient off from much of their known world. I see her always wincing and squinting and struggling to put her world into context. At times, she doesn’t really know who anyone is.

I think Joan knows that she knows me. She doesn’t know my name, or even Red’s name. She seems to recognize me and smile, and she recognizes Red by sight, if not name. She always hugs me hello, and kisses me on the cheek goodbye. She is a creative, she knows how to paint and can sometimes write a poem.

Memory loss is not usually a total thing, but a fluctuating and fragmented thing. Sometimes she is clear as a bell, sometimes she seems to drift in a fog.  l loved the way she hugged her cat and clung to her.

Joan thinks she is going home every morning, and packs up her things. I know the cat will be in one of her suit cases by this morning, but I wanted her to have it. Our souls seem to love and talk to one another, and the Mansion staff loves “Joanie” and watches out for her. Sometimes she sits in the office with them and tries to help out.

Joan loves to play Bingo, even thought she can’t match the letters. Early next week, a sensory apron is arriving, i think she will love to put in her lap and manipulate all the buttons and straps. Joan is a miracle of communications for me, she understands everything I say, and I understand what she means.

It is beautiful way to talk in so many ways. When I said good night to Joan, she was clutching Joy. She said she would put Joy away so she would have her when she goes home in the morning.

A friend gave Maria an old quilt a couple of years ago, and Maria washed it this week and put it out on the line to dry. The next morning, a huge storm swept through her and it brought intense winds on and off for two days. The quilt, already wet, stayed out on the line to dry.

This morning, when we went out to feed the animals, Maria noticed this odd and colorful lump up on the roof. It took her a minute to realize i was her beautiful old quilt, which she had just hung out on the line.

The wind had blown the quilt off the back yard clothesline, over the top of the roof and down the other side, where it caught on some slate and froze.

Lord, I thought who can we call to get the old quilt down.

I was astonished, and wasn’t sure what to do, Maria, my Willa Cather girl, just went into the barn and pulled out a big ladder and climbed up and got it.

Maria was delighted, as only an artist would be. She was up on the roof in second, and put the old quilt in the yard so the morning sun might that it out. This is a video, she said, and went to work.

“A sculpture,” she said, immediately pondering how she could make some of her quilts stand up in shaped forms. I felt bad about the old quilt sitting frozen out there in the yard, Maria danced around, taking photos and videos, thinking about she might do fiber sculptures if she could shape them.

As the sun rose, the old quilt began to thaw, and it bothered me, seeing it out there.

I lobbied to bring the poor thing inside, I had emotionalized the quilt, perhaps, I said, we’ve been together for too long. It was kind of striking to see, Fate growled at it stayed away.

The old quilt is no thawing out in the bathtub. I am grateful to be living here, you really get to consider life and what it means.

I asked Maria what will become of the quilt now. She didn’t blink. “I’ll probably cut it up,” she said, meaning it would be born again as a potholder, quilt or hanging piece.  I did feel a twinge hearing that, the old quilt is very beautiful and has had a long life. How odd that I should feel this way about a quilt.

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This morning, my writing class at the farmhouse, then we are planning a run night excursion to somewhere close by. We just need to get out of the house for a few hours, or a night. More later.