It’s a quiet Sunday morning. I’ve had breakfast and my morning walk. As always, Kate is still asleep. Being a music lover, I have some of my favorite music playing on my audio system as I fold clothes that I didn’t get around to folding yesterday. I gather each of Kate’s tops, pants, robes, and socks and put them in their appropriate places. I return to the kitchen where yesterday I had carefully placed her underwear on a towel to dry. Now I fold them and put them in the drawer where historically Kate has kept them. Now they could make their way to almost any other place in the house. I place them neatly in the drawer even though I know they won’t stay that way long.
As I do this, I think about the fact that I didn’t even know how to run the washer just a few years ago. I think about my dad who cared for my mom who had dementia. He must have been doing these same kind of things for her though I never heard him say a word about it. I was with them almost every day, and I never imagined the things he was doing. He did it because he loved her. They met in the ninth grade and were together until Mom died at 87.
I also think about the other caregivers who right now are doing similar things for their loved ones. They, too, do it out of love. I know. I feel the same way. I am glad I can do it. What a nice morning.
