my father

[Drunk Monk]

My CA summer rollercoaster has had me on such a journey that I haven't really had that much time to reflect beyond passing thoughts during the commute. My mom is settling into her new lifestyle which is quite active for a widow in her eighties. She worries about her forgetfulness and is still sorting paperwork with bank accounts and such. My dad spread his money out over multiple banks and investments. I spend one night a week at my mom's home, checking in on her and saving on my commute. We go out to dinner, of which she almost always saves half for the next night, and she often has some trivial chore for me to do. Then she goes to bed early and I watch stuff on Xfinity sitting in my dad's old chair, where he sat and watched TV for 10 years. It's trippy to be the house of my childhood. It's the most permanent fixture in my life and yet seems so transient now that my father is not there anymore. I worry about my mom and about this house full to the brim with odd junk. Tons of photos everywhere. The house is functional, but there's a lot of bits in disrepair - worn through carpet here, a broken toilet paper dispenser there - the medieval fridge still works amazingly enough. That monster is over 4 decades old and still going strong. I worry mostly because of the stairs - that house has a lot of pointless stairs - and my mom falling. She's got great neighbors however, friendly and concerned, keeping a watchful eye to see that the newspaper is picked up every morning. We've settled into a comfortable rhythm actually. T will spend a week with my mom this summer, along with the pom. That should be good for everyone.