We helped Mom move into a new apartment in her building the first week of July; one that is just a bit roomier so she can have more studio space, and it has an updated kitchen. She had quite literally worn out the previous unit’s 1970’s era kitchen. I’m still haunted by how close in time frame that move was to our Covid exposure, but somewhat relieved when I recall that we were extra diligent about masks and keeping physical distance, especially from Mom. And the kids haven’t been in her presence at all since they had returned to daycare. Still, it was a close one, and it nags at me.
So, we certainly don’t see Mom in person at all now. But that doesn’t stop us from getting the new place set up right. Some things don’t change, life marches on, furnishings must be arranged. I mean, have you met me? And we all know Pat hasn’t changed. Her reply to my photo messages for example:
“No I threw those pots in Chicago. Yes it’s a crock pot. One fan for head the other for feet. glad to make your day. Mom”
girl at large 