I was twenty eight when I moved back home. My Mother was sixty two when I moved next door to her. We became a blended family. She was part of almost everything we did from then on out. The kids ran back and forth from her house to ours almost at will. Jack fell on her step and made a huge lump in the middle of his forehead when he went to Granny's, I think before he could walk. If I went to the store she went with me. If she wanted to go to town in the evening for a coke and people watching, me and the kids rode along. She went with us to pick asparagrass, to the drive in theater, camping, fishing, for rides, everywhere it seems like now. We kept her company when she had things she wanted to do too. I think myself and my kids are better off for having lived next door to her. I know I had a better life after I moved back to the town than I did before then.
In the end, the next door situation became hard to cope with. It was hard to try to take care of two houses and contradicting demands on me from people whom I loved and wanted to help and do for. I wanted to move away. But, my Mom reacted so adversely to that, we changed our minds and stayed next door to her. I am glad now, in retrospect, that we stayed and I had her friendship for so long.
I have been vigilant to not be a burden to my kids. I hope I have succeeded. I am sometimes sad that we are not as close as me and my Mom were, but on the other hand, am glad they are independent adults with lives of their own. A two edged sword, really... I sometimes have an overwhelming desire to be with them and see them and talk to them. I think about being age sixty five, and the down hill quality of life that is left for me and wonder what will happen when life gets beyond my control. I still miss my Mom... who was my best friend forever for so long.
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