2020-03-06-8:23 p.m.

Ben cut down five more sweet gum trees today. He got the poles out from under the shed and put bricks under the corners to level it somewhat. He was just starting to get some bricks placed under the middle when the internet guy drove in, so we had to stop, but we got a lot done today.

Five sweet gum trees! This means that most of the garden will be cone-free. One of my goals is to have a grassy area that I can walk on in my bare feet. We are getting closer. Right now when you go out there, you see a carpet of brown spiky balls. Seriously, they almost cover the ground. We have to be careful not to go skating on them. Ben's mother loved the sweet gums, and they were a gift from his dad. I feel bad that I don't love them, but... I don't.

It's fun saying "Timber!" when a tree falls, but that's just the beginning. Ben has to saw off all the branches so we can pile them into fairly neat stacks that the tractor can lift and carry. You have to pull out a branch that is on top of the others. You can't pull them if there are others on top. So sometimes you have to study to find the end and then decide if you want that one. Then you drag it by the thick end to the pile and throw it on, alternating thick and thin so that the stack stays stable. If it rolls off the tractor forks, you'll end up having to pick up the pile again. It's easier to stack it right in the first place.

I went to see my mother yesterday. I helped her eat. She was in a big hurry to get out of the dining room, so she didn't finish. I asked her if she wanted to go for a ride and she said, yes. She has never refused a ride in the car.

When we are in the car, I ask her why she didn't eat her ice cream in the dining room. "You love ice cream."

"I know, but I (gibberish)."

"Were you in a hurry to leave there?"

"Yes," she says. Her expression confirms this.

"So if I offered you a milk shake, would you want it?"

"I sure would!"

We got a milk shake, which she insisted on sharing with me, even though I kept telling her I didn't need any. We just drove. And talked. She seems more able to interact when she is away from the nursing home.

When she seems tired, we return. We pull into the parking lot. She has gone back in time. She is going to the nursing home to see her mother. "I spend a lot of time here," she says.

"Yes. You went every day."

She is quiet. Then, "It's good when they go. You get your identity back. You're not just someone's kid."

I don't know what to say to this. I don't feel like she is robbing me of my identity. I am just so glad that she is still around. She has Alzheimer's, she moves in and out of reality as I know it, but she is still my mom, the sun we all revolve around. Sometimes I still want her to comfort me when things go wrong. And she does that for me, still.

I sign her in and tell the nurse we're back. I kiss her cheek and tell her bye. She seems happy. We had a good visit. "I'll see you next time." I really do hope so.

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