In which I learn how to anticipate needs, and the see the power of little somethings.

On 12 February, I left Ashland to fly out to Las Vegas to get my aunt Martha ready for her move to Ashland. It was a painful process for her, deciding which of her things that she would bring with her, and which of them she was willing to let go and leave behind. And on top of that, there were visits to lawyers and bankers, all of which required that I translate for her because of her hearing loss. I can only imagine how overwhelming the whole affair was for her.

   For me, it was beyond exhausting, and I was constantly anxious, trying to anticipate every possible need and necessity that lay ahead of us. In addition to packing and sorting and going to meetings, one of the things I did was to watch her as she went about her day so that I learned which of her possessions she used often and valued so I that could make sure that they made the journey with her to her new home. I made a note in my mind of where she like things kept so that when I unpacked her belongings in Ashland in her new apartment, I could put things in a place that was familiar to her.

   For many of the nights that I was in Las Vegas, I got, at the most, four hours of sleep because I was constantly going over things again and again in my head and on paper to make sure that I didn’t miss anything. Suddenly becoming responsible for the well-being of this very special lady was a lot for me to take in, and I was determined to dot every I and cross every T with respect to every aspect of the move.

   When the rental car was finally packed up, and the last meetings were finally concluded, Martha and I started the drive to Oregon. The scenery on our first leg from Las Vegas to our stopping spot for the night, which was in California, was quite extraordinary, visually speaking. I saw things I had never seen before. Not long after leaving the cement and sprawl of Las Vegas behind us we drove through the Mojavi desert, which is starkly lovely and full of bizarre, otherworldly looking tree cacti (Joshua trees). 

   Later, as we started to approach mountains where scraps of green grass grew, we saw an airplane graveyard that was in the middle of nowhere. I later found out that the aircraft we saw have been retired and will be used for scrap. They also store planes in this location that are temporarily out of service but may fly again one day. Not far from the plane cemetery we saw a veritable forest of enormous wind turbines. I had never seen so many of the energy creating machines in one place. 

   Later still, after driving through a pass, we passed by hills that were furred with green and we began our journey up through California’s Central Valley. It was wonderful to see green again after days spent in the browns and grays of Las Vegas. 

   After a night’s rest in a motel, we drove north on I5 through California’s Central Valley. What really

had an impact on Martha were the miles and miles of blooming almond trees that she saw as we drove through the agricultural heart of the state. Even now, several weeks later, she still talks about them.

   What I did not expect with the regard to this trip was that we talked the whole way. Indeed we never ran out of things to talk about. Martha has such a curious and inquisitive mind, and she has such interesting stories to tell because her life has been a singular one.

   Martha spent her first night in Ashland at my house so that she could decompress a little bit before I moved her to her new apartment. She was so patient when all the dogs wanted to sit on her lap at once, and so brave when she woke up in the morning not sure where she was.

   When she saw her apartment for the first time, I think she was really pleased with how I had furnished it. One of the first things I did was to put up a large framed print from her old house that she loves very much. Seeing that piece of artwork on the wall brought a huge smile to her face, and I think my heart grew a bit bigger at that moment, knowing that I had done something that helped her feel less adrift. I then proceeded to arrange things around the apartment that would, I hoped, give her comfort; photos of her family, a much loved koala teddy bear, and her favorite blanket.

   I have been visiting her every day since she moved in. Sometimes I am there for a meal, sometimes I am there to deliver something that I think will make her home more cozy, sometimes I go there to accompany to the movie theater or the beauty parlor in her complex.

   Every day I cross off a day on the calendar so that she knows which day of the week it is. We consult the list of movies to see if they are showing a movie that evening that she might like. I check to make sure that she is going to her meals. Unfortunately, she lost her sense of smell and taste some years ago and doesn’t have much of an appetite, so eating is just a chore. When I ask if she went to lunch and she shrugs I give her my mothering look and remind her that she needs “nutrition.” She rolls her eyes and then gives me a naughty grin.

   Last week, I did something that I haven’t done in a very long time. She finds the chairs in the movie theater a little on the hard side so I bought her a flat cushion with a handle on it that she can take with her down to the theater. Just in case she leaves it behind, I hand embroidered her name on it. The embroidery is not a work of art by any stretch of the imagination, but putting every stitch into the fabric felt right, even if it was a wee bit wobbly.

   One day I sat with her while she had her lunch, another morning I took her a clock that will be backlit at night so that she can check the time when it is dark outside. I also gave her a pair of cozy slippers that she quite fell in love with. Another morning I was potting up acorns that have produced radicals and I took photos of the process to show her when I visited her later that day. I also took pictures of my blooming house plants, and found an illustrated book about art on my shelves that I thought she would enjoy exploring.  

   It is a delight to see how these little somethings that I take and share with her give her joy. And I feel joy too, when I think of new things that I can do to make her feel loved and cared for. Though the unexpected arrival of an hitherto unfamiliar aunt into my life has been a bit of a shock, the experience has also been enriching.

Art by Dmitriy Shetsov (top) and Joan Baker (right)