Head & Heart

Today I got a phone call I've been expecting.

My sister called to say that the rest home said it's time.
Mama needs to move down the hill to the nursing home--
she's lost her natural caution about the parking lot,
and nearly collided with the garbage truck,
in her eagerness to see it.

"It's so big and loud!"

It would have been good for her, probably,
to have been able to finish up that way.
But not good for the rest home.
Or the truck driver.

Above the neck, I'm happy about this transition.
She'll get more care, probably, down the hill.
Maybe there will be an activities director that she can enjoy,
down there.
She has a good friend there already.
There will be more to do.

She wants a change.
Every time I talk to her, she tells me
she's not happy where she is.
She wants to move.
She wants to be "homeward bound."
This is a step in that direction.

But my heart's not so sure.

This will likely be the last place she ever lives.
And though she may not act like it,
she's still the only mama I ever had.
Or ever will.
And I miss her.

In my heart.
And in my head.