Eye doctor appointment

Yesterday, before I get out of bed, mind is saying I can’t do this. Body numb.

Leave house 6:30 am, two slices of rice almond bread in pocket, miso soup in thermos. Drink soup and drive.

Driving to dad’s, mind says I should be at work, I’m behind at work.
Driving to dad’s, mind says I can’t do this, need to sit and to eat, need to walk and feel fresh air on skin, visit the trees, the sky. Touch Mother Earth with my feet. Car continues. Shoulders slouch, hunch over. Automatic pilot. I stop for school busses, observe the slowness of students getting on the bus. Critical mind kicks in. Don’t kids run anymore? Arrive at the eye doctor’s office with dad 45 minutes later and late. Mind is in a book, getting the book discussion book read. The talk of nurses, the waiting in this room then that room, then in the waiting room, all peripheral to the book. Reading in bright lit rooms that suddenly become dark, book stays open. Stomach starts burning. Eat the rice bread while reading. At the end, when decisions need to be made, I look at my dad. He is thinking aloud about his options for treatment. Someone closes the door to our room. We are in this place. He is talking of pain when the needles at go into his eye. This will be the 7th time this year. When the needle goes into his eye later, I hear him cry out softly, tears form, his lips quiver. I think courage; he is courageous.

Driving home three hours later, Dad sleeps. Nothing done on either job I work makes a difference in the larger scheme of things. No lives in danger; pay - not a living wage. I breathe. I am where I need to be. Jobs, errands, pull at me like the river over the rocks. Here I am, resting in the river, witnessing the courage in dad, reflecting my own, his keeping him going 93 years, me 57 years.