The scent of flowers, herbs, and fresh-cut grass wafting at us in turn. ![]() I helped her past the immaculately landscaped gardens and small orchards. “I don’t like it when you spend so much for days and more. “Next time I’ll come for a couple of days, at least. I didn’t want to go into why I couldn’t afford much this trip. “What you mean is that we haven’t got so much time today,” she said. I wanted her to use a wheelchair, or a walker, at least. She squeezed my arm as her feet slid carefully over the cobbled path. “Where to today?” she asked, slipping her arm into mine as we escaped the frigid building. As always, she rebuffed any attempt to treat her like an old person. “It’s too cold in here.”ĭespite the hint, the nurse tried to help Mom over the threshold. “Let’s go on out,” she said, shrugging off the nurse’s continued assistance. It wasn’t strictly true, but true enough. I kissed and hugged her, automatically asking how she was, mouthing the answer she always gave as she gave it again. I’d finished my juice and was beginning to brood on my dislike for overly air-conditioned buildings when my mother arrived attended by a nurse. There were no magazines and no television, just cold air blowing from the vents and generic music flowing with it. It felt more like a dialysis room, the visitors sunk into the overly-soft couches and not speaking, just drinking orange juice and recovering. ![]() The few minutes I had to spend in the Institute’s waiting room were my least favorite part of coming up to visit my mother. Tempest Bradford is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License. Next week… The future of corporate America.Feedback for Episode 261: Only Springtime When She’s Gone.
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