Walking Tall

I am not tall. I am very short. I just couldn't think of a title for this post. 

First I want to clarify that, although my daughter took 2 or 3 items from one of many many cupboards, she left about 100 behind. None of my children are truly interested in my stuff. And despite my intentions, I have closed the door and am trying to ignore all the stuff.

And I guess I am starting with some days in the life. 

Yesterday I met friends for lunch (fried food with salt) and ended up spending four and a half hours in the restaurant. Then I went to my crime podcast club and never made dinner until 8:30 pm. My grandkids arrived for breakfast and the bus with their mom who is on spring break. She hung around for coffee until a hair appointment. I decided it was too late to go walk since we were going out to lunch after her appointment.  I stepped out on the back porch to get something out of the freezer for dinner and - my area of the country was hit with a giant 7 ton meteorite.  Didn't see that one coming! 

My wooden porch floor shook and it sounded like a train crash or some kind of loud metal thunder.  Everyone in the northern part of our state thought it happened in their back yard.  The 30 mile radius of pieces from the exploded meteor are about about 35 miles away from my town.  Everyone started texting each other and that kept me busy until we went to lunch. 

We sat by the window and watched it snow which reminded me that I did not walk the streets and look at Christmas windows last year. Maybe I can do it in 2026.  Then we went to the grocery store and returned home to wait for the bus.  My son in-law didn't pick up the kids until a quarter to five and I decided I was too tired to go walk and would just make supper. 

Then a friend messaged me on facebook. I will go backwards here. We became friends right after high school at our first real job. A small factory in town hired a whole group of recent young women graduates to assemble little thermostats for appliances.  We all became fast friends, hosting bridal showers, attending weddings, hosting baby showers and tupperware parties.  I am still friends with several of the girls to this day. This is my friend Marilyn.  

Marilyn had the first baby and I had the second. We would meet for play dates and picnics with her son and daughter (we didn't have money to lunch at restaurants in those days).  Many of us had husbands that worked later at night and we would meet for potlucks.  

Marilyn's mother had died when she was young and her elderly father spoiled her terribly. She and her husband lived rent free in one of his houses and she would complain it was not as fancy as she wanted. She liked to spend money and have to borrow from her dad to pay credit cards, over due utility bills or whatever.  He was her safety net and never said no.  

I had more children and changed jobs. She had baby sitters and went out.  She eventually had an affair, they got divorced and she talked her dad into buying her another house.  Dad passed away and she inherited several properties. She ended up selling them off one by one and living on the proceeds instead of working. 

But we stayed friends even though we had very different lives, me at home, and later at work, with five children and a husband, and Marilyn fancy free in the 1980's, going line dancing at country bars, every other weekend girls trips, etc. 

Then the money ran out, she was in financial trouble in a tiny apartment. She gained lots of weight (I know, I should talk), couldn't afford her car, developed health issues and made them worse. 

For example - this was at least 20 years ago when she was in her late 40's - her daughter moved a few houses down from her.  She would not walk to her daughter's house, she would drive. Eventually she would not walk to the mailbox, she would drive. She quit shopping in stores, she would get deliveries.  We did not see each other often. 

But I stay friends.  About five years ago I blogged about helping a friend that was a hoarder. This was Marilyn. She liked to shop and hated to clean.  I cannot discuss the state of the apartment but there was a problem with the hot water tank and the landlord stepped inside.  He started eviction and I helped her find affordable senior housing and spent several days filling hundreds of trash bags to go to the dump. And cajoling my husband to put them in his truck and take them to the dump.  

She would refuse medical advice and change doctors. I know of at least one doctor who dropped her as a patient because she refused to take his advice about her diabetes.  

Anyway. She texted me this afternoon and shared a photograph of an Xray.  She had fallen in the apartment and severely fractured her shoulder on Valentines Day.  She has been in a nursing home in a neighboring village.  She wouldn't really answer questions about prognosis or healing or rehab.  I think she has landed in a place where everything is done for her and I bet she will never leave. She did share that her doctor would not preform surgery on the shoulder due to her high sugar numbers.  She is one month older than I am. 

We are 69, turning 70 later this year. I now feel that 70 is so much younger than I previously thought one or two or five decades ago.  You don't surrender at 70. 

And here is Miss Merry who spent days in the cardio unit in January who hasn't walked in two days and is planning on vegging out in the recliner tonight.  

I put on my big girl coat - because it is winter at the north pole this week - and drove across town with Mr Merry to the rec center and walked for two miles on the track. Because I am not going to surrender.