The Dinner Table

silver ware

silver ware (Photo credit: agavegirl13)

This won’t be long. I just have to get it off my shoulders. I can’t go over and do it for him. He is already upset. He is cussing and he is yelling at me because he thinks he is a five-year old. I am finding this to happen more and more. Each time I offer my help and tell him I understand, I am lying. How could I understand? Unless, I have the same thing, I could have no idea what he is going through. I have tried taking my arm, and tightening it up, and shaking it as fast as I can, but in a matter of seconds, my arm will start to hurt and ache from the tightness. Now he is coughing. Coughing on his drink. He is trying to tell me something while he is struggling to drink his juice. I bought him weighted silver ware, about a month ago, and this seemed to be a miracle in itself. Sometimes I would see the fork or spoon tumbling to the floor, because it would fall out of his hands, but I would just smile at him, and tell him, it is no problem. I will pick it up and wash it off and he can have it back. The arm has become immune to this new weighted item that he holds. It wants and needs more. It is showing its teeth, snarling that nothing I could ever do would begin to beat it down. I feel like it is Satan staring me in the face, and laughing deep from his ugly soul, knowing that I am the loser in this game. We ate out for lunch out today, since we had to pick up medicines. Yes, at his favorite restaurant. While he was eating, his nose was less than two inches from his plate. I wanted to cry out to him, to hold his head up, sit up straight. Tell him that he knows better, but nothing comes out of my mouth. My job at that moment was just to make sure he stayed safe. We ordered dessert for him, and they brought it before the meal, and he gobbled the dessert first, like he had never had that type of sweetness touch his mouth. I almost said something about didn’t he remember that we save our desserts for after our meal? Again, I said nothing.  For supper I was not hungry yet, and he is on his schedule, whether he is hungry or not. I gave him a simple, filling meal with applesauce for dessert. He always takes his medications from a cup. Tonite he could not get the cup up far enough in the air to force the pills to fall downwards into his mouth. He is cussing at the pills. Saying they want to stick in the cup and make a fool of him. I did suggest he place the pills in his hand or that I could help him. He ended up placing them in his hands and did manage to swallow them. Food that I gave him, continued to slide on to the table, some hitting the floor. He is yelling at me, I am five years old. I don’t deserve to eat. Maybe this Parkinson’s should just kill me right now so I don’t starve.  I offer to help feed him, and this was a big NO. He is finished now. Has left the table to brush his teeth. I get up and start cleaning the table and floor.

Liebster Blog Award

I have been nominate the Liebster Blog Award by kyllingsara. I feel so honored to receive this. I am still not over the shock that people read my stories and like them, so this means so much to me. I feel so close to Sara, who nominated me. I look forward to reading her blogs daily. I feel like we have become close friends through cyber space. I thank you Sara, from the bottom of my heart. The five nominees I want to choose are






Each of these people have fascinating stories. Check them out.

10 Random facts about me?

1. I love food

2. I love antiques

3. I love culture

4. I love art

5. I used to own my own antique store

6. I refinished antique furniture for customers for a long time

7. I have compassion, more than I

8. My favorite color is Blue

9. I have three grown kids and six grandkids

10. I love wordpress and all my new friends

Ladders, Cracks, And Black Cats

A Black cat Italiano: Un gatto nero Deutsch: E...

A Black cat Italiano: Un gatto nero Deutsch: Eine schwarze Katze (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She hid behind the dumpster in the alley, waiting for it to go by. Her heart was beating so hard, she knew it was about to burst out of her body. It went by, she waited a moment, and then slowly, barely touching her feet to the ground, she emerged out into view. She took small, even steps, counting each one, making sure that each was of the same distance. She had a distance to walk home. She had just gotten off of her part-time job, and today, unfortunately, it was a night shift. She wanted to use the front door, but the manager always insisted they exit the rear door. As she came out of the alley, and was stepping on to the sidewalk, she forgot that construction was going on in her block where she worked. There were many objects in her way, making it difficult to walk straight ahead. She had to walk under the awning. She noticed the tall, stiff, board leaning against the wall, and became frozen in her steps. She knew she would be safest from running in to the construction company’s tools, going through the board with all those holes in it, since it was dark, but she didn’t know if she could force herself to walk that route. It was making a sort of bridge over her head. She pondered, and chewed on her nails. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it! There was that thing that had scared her so badly. It was crossing the street. She didn’t take time to think. She ran through the tunnel, and  continued running  until she came to the next block. She stopped to catch her breath, inhaling large amounts of air. Slowly she could feel her heart slow down. She started walking again, making sure she counted her steps, making sure she didn’t go to fast or too slow. She didn’t want to step in any holes, or step on any cracks. She had to walk for about fifteen minutes before she arrived at her home. A mist formed, and fog was beginning to surround her. The eerie trees above her looked like long, ugly fingers reaching out to grab her. She caught her breath, but kept walking, trying to keep track of her steps. She heard a trash can being knocked over, and saw a raccoon run across the street from fear of the sounds he had created. Above her she heard an owl signaling to her that he was watching her. Finally, she made it to the front door of her home. She took out her house keys from her pocket, and let herself in. She took two steps at a time up the stairs, relieved when she had shut her bedroom door behind her. Why did her boss make her work the night shift on Friday the 13th? Never again!