Hannah would get to sleep early and get ready for everyone first thing in the morning, since she’d had no time to prepare today. The day had not gone at all as she had planned. Her mother’s discharge from the rehab center had been delayed. They had said all week she would go home Friday. The insurance coverage ended on Friday, so home was basically the only option.
And Mom was ready. She hated the rehab place, there were lights on all night and people moving around at all hours. She missed her own bed, her own things. Though she did like having that leg massage thing. Could Hannah get one of those for her?
Hannah had promised she would look into it, though who knew if those were available. Probably would cost more than a bed. She’d arrived early at the rehab center to pack Mom’s things. She’d been chipper and upbeat, trying to keep her Mom’s spirits up. A bit worried at how weak her mother looked, how much she had seemed to deflate after the fall despite the physical therapies.
But she hid it well. The two of them had waited and waited. Hannah thought she knew how to navigate the vagaries of hospital and clinic timetables, but her own nerves were frayed by the time the nurse had finally received the discharge order and they’d wheeled her mother to the car.
Hannah had forgotten to make a plan for getting her mother out of the car once they’d pulled up to the house. She would stay with Mom during the home care phase of her recovery. Homecare aids would come each day, do the PT and OT and whatever other T there was to be done. They would start Monday. But as she parked the car Friday evening, Hannah suddenly realized she could really use some help now. A wave of exhaustion crashed over her as she considered how to navigate her mother from the car to the house. Until she remembered the office chair with wheels, and they laughingly, nervously used it as a make-shift wheel chair.
And now she was in bed feeling even more exhausted, if that were possible. She had fussed and hovered over Mom until Mom finally told her to please let her settle in and get some rest. Hannah lay awake listening to the drone of her Mom’s television. Was she still awake? Had she fallen asleep? What if she fell out of bed? What if she needed to go to the bathroom? What if she had a heart attack? The worries and fears buzzed around her mind.
Stop, she told herself. Everything will be fine. Tomorrow the family would arrive. Think of that. Hannah’s sister Gabby would bring her husband and sons. Hannah’s brother Tom would bring his wife and daughter. Their presence would hopefully fill up the house as they celebrated Mom’s homecoming. Hannah had begged Gabby and Tom to come over for the day. She needed the moral support. So she told them it was a celebration. She did not say it was a chance for Hannah to surround herself with people to buffer her from Mom’s weakness and frailty. Thoughts of her mother’s mortality.
They would make Nana’s almond butter cookies, a family tradition. They’d done that as kids, Mom making the dough and pressing the cookies while Hannah, Gabby, and Tom had decorated them. She had ordered the cookie ingredients from Hoover’s Market earlier in the week. Had splurged on specialty pastry flour, an expensive bottle of almond extract, way too much butter. She’d ordered a Trivial Pursuit game. And then Mom’s favorite wheat thin cookies and easy-to-prepare meals and soups that Mom would hopefully make on her own. And she couldn’t forget her favorite, chickpeas. She wanted Mom to be up and about as soon as possible. Back in her kitchen, back out with friends. This weekend would be the return to her old life. The busy life she’d had before the fall.
Hoover’s Market was originally going to deliver everything Friday. That was when Hannah thought the day would start with Mom’s discharge. But as the day had dragged and it seemed the discharge order might not happen, even, Hannah had called and asked for everything to be delivered in the morning. Most of it would keep on the front porch but those boxes of butter she’d ordered would need to be refrigerated. So mid-morning everything would be delivered.
Awaking Saturday morning, Hannah wasn’t any more rested than she’d been the day before. She just could not relax. Maybe once the others arrived she could. Mom needed help to the bathroom. She loitered outside the bathroom as her mother showered.
“I’m fine Hannah.” Her voice came through the door. “Stop hovering. You can’t catch me if I fall when you’re on the other side of the closed door! I can hear you breathing. Go away. I’ll call or bang on the door if I need you.”
Eventually, Mom had shuffled down the hall. She’d actually done a good job of getting dressed in elastic-waisted slacks, a simple knit pull-on shirt. Hannah was impressed. She’d even done her makeup. Not all of it as she usually did. But a little lipstick, some light color on her lids. That was a good sign.
During a breakfast of toast and coffee at Mom’s breakfast table, the two women ate in companionable silence. Hannah could almost convince herself nothing terrible had happened. No late night call from the hospital telling her that her mother, Anna Kelly, was in the ER, had suffered a fall. The neighbor had found her on the floor. Hannah could imagine her mother splayed across the floor, and she kept replaying the image over and over. Stop. Think of the cookies. Where was the delivery anyway? Shouldn’t it be here by now?
And then everything happened all at once. The doorbell rang. “That’ll be the Hoover’s Market delivery,” said Hannah and went to the door. As she took the packages for “A. Kelly” from the driver, Gabby and Tom both arrived and the kids ran around among the adults. People were talking and visiting and wonderful family energy filled the place, so Hannah just set the packages onto the dining table. The butter would need to soften anyway. Nothing else needed refrigeration.
Mom was happy and glowing, Hannah was happy to see. Tom and Gabby and their spouses and the kids all milled around, talking over each other, all vying for Mom’s attention. It was refreshing. Gabby’s oldest son began laying out the packages on the table as Hannah went into the kitchen for scissors to cut open the bags. “Oh cool!” She heard him exclaim. “Olives!”
Olives? She hadn’t ordered olives. She and Gabby arrived at the table together and Hannah began cutting into the packages. Instead of flour and butter and soups and crackers, she unwrapped cheeses and pâtés and gourmet crackers and a rum cake, of all things. And chocolate liqueurs, and smoked salmon, and fancy looking lettuce, and fancy looking tea. Where was her order? This was not what she had ordered.
She searched for the order slip and there saw “A. Kelly” but a different address. For goodness sake. Another A. Kelly in town getting a delivery today, too? They must have planned a very grown up party. And were the creamed vegetables for a toddler, maybe? Nothing was going as planned, nothing. What about the cookies and Trivial Pursuit? What would they do? Would everyone leave if they didn’t have a planned activity to keep them busy? She emptied the last bag, taking out a beautiful greeting card. Should she try to locate the other A. Kelly? Call the market?
“Hannah, you surprise me,” said Gabby. “This isn’t at all what I expected. Good job, though. What an awesome way to celebrate Mom’s homecoming. A nice grown up spread of cheeses and pâtés. You know she loves this stuff, simply loves it. She’d probably eat this all the time if you let her.”
“Really?” said Hannah. “You don’t think she’d prefer some canned soups or the chickpeas, her favorite? Or easy microwave meals?” Hannah looked questioningly at Tom, who came and stood watching the unpacking.
“Are you kidding? This is way easier for her. Just open the cheese and pâté and chow down. Doesn’t even need to use the microwave. And look at this rum cake you picked out! Sure, not for the kids. But we adults will enjoy it. And chocolate liqueurs. You’ll make Mom feel so adult, help her forget how dependent she’s been on everyone for weeks. You always knock it out of the park, don’t you? Well done.” And Gabby patted Hannah on the back as she went to the side cabinet to pull out napkins. “This calls for the good napkins and silver, doesn’t it?”
“Mom,” said Tom, “Wait until you see what Hannah has prepared for us. To celebrate your recovery and your homecoming. We’re going to celebrate life today, I tell you! Here, want a chocolate liqueur?”
“Oh,” said Mom, “What a surprise. Thank you.” And she sat up a little straighter in her chair.
Hannah took the delivery receipt and folded it into her pocket. If they all thought this selection was just what her Mom would enjoy, who was Hannah to disagree? They seemed to be impressed by the grown up feast they thought she had ordered. Why disappoint them?
She would call Hoover’s Market later. If she needed to.
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Waiting room by DanielCubas from Pixabay/filtered from original
Pastries by Andreas Lischka from Pixabay/filtered from original
Breakfast table by Jill Wellington from Pixabay/filtered from original
Appetizer crackers by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay/filtered from original
Dips by Christo Anestev from Pixabay/filtered from original
Bev says
I’m truly running out of ways to express being gobsmacked by the depth and breadth and delight of you and your work. Just picture me on the floor.