The Un-Lunch

My grandmother turned 90 this past July. That is, as I would say and often do, an awful lot of livin’. She is a wise, sassy, funny, mischievous, lovely imp of a lady when she is at her best. I thoroughly enjoy spending time with her.

I made a decision–well, had a revelation, really–earlier this year that I was prioritizing the little nagging things in my life over spending time with the people I love, and I didn’t want to do that anymore. I would look around at all the things that remained undone and feel the pressure of guilt, which would motivate me to try to make a dent in them, even when I had the opportunity to spend time with family, primarily because it was the thing that silently shouted at my psyche. I felt like a bad wife and a lazy person, which I know isn’t really true, but winter is a complicated time for those with depression.

My mother and I had taken a day to go visit my grandmother a few weeks ago, and we had a lot of fun. My grandmother still lives where I grew up (most people call it “snow country”), and we arrived in the midst of a flurry of activity. It seems that, in its exodus from the metal roof, a large avalanche of snow had taken the chimney of the wood stove along with it, and a new pellet stove had been purchased as a replacement. All the men were hovering around in clumps, looking official, many trying to do as little work as possible but still look busy. My grandmother was in good spirits. Winter gets pretty lonely when it’s winter and you don’t have a lot of mobility, and an opportunity like this to have people around is not to be sneezed at, especially for a formerly social butterfly. Her hearing and vision are also gradually waning, so it can be a quiet, dark, lonely existence at times.

I decided that day that I would spend at least one of my days off per week spending time with her. I called the day before my first Thursday off, and offered to take her to lunch at Cracker Barrel (her favorite), a chance at which she jumped immediately. The next day dawned very cold, and I called her to let her know I would be a little later than I expected because I wanted to give Art a ride to work so he wouldn’t be out in the freezing weather. “We can cancel if you want to. It’s awful cold,” she said. I assured her that we were still on, that I was just running late, and that she should get gussied up for a day out.

When I arrived at her house, her back was to me and she was making a slice of peanut butter toast. She also looked decidedly non-gussied up. In fact, she was wearing her comfiest house-clothes and looked ready for a nap. I touched her shoulder and she looked at me with surprise. “I thought we cancelled,” she said. I laughed. “That was your idea,” I said. She looked crestfallen, and I knew I would have to act fast. “Do you still want to go out or should we stay in?” I asked. “Let’s stay in,” she said. So we did, and we had the best time. We had tea and reminisced, made some future plans for the house and the spring, caught up on each other’s news, and just enjoyed spending time together.

We often feel that occasions have to be special or planned to be most successful. With the ones we love, it couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s ok to let your expectations go once in a while and play it by ear. Who knows, you may find you’re making more memories than you thought.