It’s Sunday, overcast — there’s a tiny chill in the air. This is perfect writing weather. Grey skies like these helped Dickens and the Bronte sisters write their classics. But all I want to do is get a few pages down before my caregiver routine begins. Got my paper, my pen, the laptop — and I’m trying to be quiet as a mouse so I won’t wake Mom. Three sentences in, I hear the door squeak, the sneakers flopping toward me. I know now that my quiet Sunday has come to an end. I want to shriek with aggravation, but it’s Sunday, so instead I’m praying for patience.
They sell so much junk at this time of year. I’ve seen sales on plastic candles that have no scent or real light. Stores are full of enormous blow up Santas that look like they blew away from the Macy’s parade. But if I could find a store selling extra large quantities of patience, I would max out every credit card, empty the bank account, and buy as much as I could.
During the month of December there is so much to do. Even a simple trip to the grocery store turns into a NASCAR event as drivers try to zip past you for a parking space or air kiss your fenders while they chat on the phone. Things that I am normally able to manage without complaint, like my mom’s five hundred requests to buy Christmas cards, start to feel more irritating than usual. My search for a few minutes of peace — or a bit of silence — never seems to bear fruit.
If you happen to come across a store or website where caregivers can purchase a giant economy-size carton of patience, let me know. It would be my favorite holiday gift and I’d be more than happy to share.