Moving Things Around in Space and Time

It’s not even 9:30 a.m. and I am already tired. After breakfast, I begin pondering on the fact that if the women dust, certain things are apt to get broken. Two ceramic angels on my mantel that my neighbor gave me for Christmas about five years ago come to mind. I will post a picture of them later on. For me, they represent Bob and Laurie and I would hate to see something happen to them. So I put them on a kitchen shelf for now. Now the room looks like this.

A thought came to me. Everything works if you just keep your self-respect. Things will be changing for me as the tremor progresses. If anyone breaks something, it would be me. And even though I am not the body, it is a great inconvenience to be shaky from head to toe. This must fatigue the body itself. If I shrug my shoulders, they feel spastic, as smooth moves are not easy for me. Essential Tremor is not Parkinson’s. I don’t experience the tremor until I move a part of my body. Right now it is just in my hands, but my muscle mass is not what it used to be and that is because of my neuropathy. I can’t walk very far anymore. Nevertheless, everything is okay for now.

I began the conversation with Rob yesterday. You know, the one where you tell a family member where all the legal papers are and what paperwork we still have to do with a lawyer present. He was very calm about it, saying he already knew where it all was. Anyhoo, I am a perfectionist, as I have often said. But I tend to get very impulsive as well. So the things I cherish must be where
shaky hands or hired hands will not break them.

The car is still at the gas station getting new tires, etc. Rob told me not to ask the next-door neighbors to run him up there to get it. Said he could walk. Okay. He is stubborn about asking people for favors.

The two of us will manage. It is easy for me to get rid of things, but for Rob it is almost impossible.

The silence is the backdrop on which the ego can always rely. It is our true nature and nothing can take it away from us. It is thoughts that mar the silence. I once wrote this line: “Listen, and you will hear a symphony of silence.”Again and again and again. Amen.

Vicki Woodyard

Comments welcomed....