Moving Day

All night long I could hear Susan moving about in her side of the house. In fact, Jeff even had a conversation with her through the grotto doors at four AM. She insisted he let her out so she could ready the bottles for the two babies. Again, she would hear none of the truth. How silly of Jeff to say she was seventy-three; she knew she was early forties, besides, she had two babies to prove it.

In fact, she had been sent to her room the night before to protect her from herself and the incessant attempts at finding the hungry babies. She wouldn’t quit asking for milk and trying to find the stairs ‘up’ to where the babies were (in Susan’s world.) Our house doesn’t have an upstairs- the rest of us know that. She spent the entire rest of the night busy with whatever her life needed to be busy about in the middle of the night. “Probably those babies, the potty, or her television.” I told myself, as I waivered in and out of sleep between the crashes and plops and plunks that echoed down the hallway.


In the morning I made our usual healthy warm oatmeal, whole grain toast and two pots of coffee. Eventually I went, key in hand, to entice Susan out of her warm bed and to the breakfast table. I was surprised when she passed me in the hall with an armload of her personal belongings and a large smile across her face. “Uh, where are you going with that stuff?” I couldn’t imagine. “Right down here.” She said in a voice that thought I should already know the answer, but hinted that I probably didn’t want to know. “Right down where?” I dreaded the reply, whatever it was. That is when I spotted the ray of light streaming the morning sun down the hallway. Other than Susan’s door, which is the first one to the left, all other doors are on lockdown since Susan moved it. We all know why.

I followed the stream of light to the room at the end of the hall where I was welcomed with a wide open door. Susan was explaining something about moving into the vacant apartment when I got a load of the room. This 'guest' room has been inhibited on and off by my son and his wife for the past year or two. What caught my eye was not Kyle's personal effects, not the furniture belonging to this room, rather Susan's belongings intwined and intermixed, like an out of control ivy vine spreading out and taking over. All across the headboard was a line of
statues, crosses, flowers and so on, plus sitting about the room were shoe boxes, baskets of personal care items, pillows, blankets, jewelry boxes and everything else Susan felt were important enough to move to her new location! I was shocked and don’t even remember what I said to her next, although I do remember hurrying down the hall to see what was going on in her real room. Other than the large furniture items and her television still hanging on the wall, the room was mostly empty!

How to handle most situations that Susan presents around here, generally comes to me instinctively, but not this time. Indeed, I must have even wondered out loud what I was supposed to do. Yup, this one stumped me! I think I just walked around shaking my head in disbelief at all the time and energy she had put into this “big move.”
And the thought of her actually picking the door lock worried me.

Eventually I remember quizzing her about what in the world she was thinking, moving her stuff into a room that wasn’t hers -and what did she want me to do with this room since she wasn’t going to be allowed to occupy both. She suddenly decided it was my mother’s fault! After all, it was all because my mother wanted to move in to her room that caused her to move out!

She acted as though it was the only respectable thing to do. Sorry Susan, this one won’t work on me, but I admit, it is getting to me. You see, I know that my mother already has a mansion in heaven and she doesn’t need this earthly room. I hope for you too Susan, a mansion up there one day. For now though- your own room will have to do, girl.