Change is scary. It’s scary, and it’s hard, and it’s exciting and mysterious. I’m feeling all of these things at the moment, and it’s exhausting.
Rowan and I are moving. It’s not far, but it’s still change, rendering it scary by default. We are going to be caring for my 91-year-old grandmother with Alzheimer’s. She can no longer live alone, and she has a three bedroom house, so it only makes sense.
I’ll get my own bedroom, the one I’ve been longing for, and Rowan will get his own room with a big bed, and we’ll get our own bathroom to boot. Grandma will get companionship, security, and three square meals a day. It’s a win-win.
It’s also a HUGE commitment on my part. Sure, I’m already committed to raising Rowan, what’s another being to care for? Honestly, it’s not the physical work that frightens me. Watching my beloved Grandmother lose her sense of self, her sense of reality, and her sense of me is what worries me the most. I don’t want to watch her die.
What a way to show her how much I love her though. What an amazing opportunity to express absolute devotion and appreciation. I have the chance to care for the matriarch of this family. To give back to the woman who raised my dad, loves her grandchildren and great-grandchildren unconditionally, and gives without limit to anyone in need-that’s an experience I can’t pass up.
Tomorrow we will start to gradually clean out her office and guest room and start to move our things in. We will ease into a routine, allowing all of us to feel each other out, figure out what works, and eliminate the things that don’t. I don’t know exactly when we’ll start sleeping there, but I imagine by next weekend we’ll be close to living there full-time.
In addition to moving, another change is taking place: Rowan is starting school! On Monday’s and Tuesday’s, he and I will be going to his friend Ezra’s house, where I will be homeschooling both of them. They are a day apart in age, terribly funny together, and have a combined IQ that’s probably three times what mine is. Rowan is jumping out of his skin with excitement, while I’m just thrilled to be able to teach again. Ezra is the youngest of four boys, and ready for some one-on-one (sort of…). It’s another win-win!
I know this move is something I’m meant to do. It’s going to make for long and tiresome days. I will cry and wonder how I can manage. There will be issues that I won’t know how to deal with, and times I come close to giving up. I will have to learn to ask for help, and then learn how to accept it.
I imagine I learn a lot in the coming months.