Being Home

 

My mornings at home in Kamsack, Saskatchewan start a little differently than when I'm home in High River. Here, there are no tasks waiting for me when I wake up, so I take my time. This morning I walked down the stairs at about 6:45. Rather than making a large pot of coffee and wasting a bunch, I wait for the Co-op Gas Bar to open to buy my one large cup of coffee for the day. It's a couple blocks away from the house; the little walk does me good.

Prior to making soup for my mom and dad, and before Mom had to leave for church, I took a walk down to my old fishing spot near the Kamsack Powerhouse on the Assiniboine River. I spent so much time there as a kid with fishing pole in hand that the changes that have happened are abundantly clear.

The dam that held back the water and created a nice fishing hole was moved about 50 yards downstream. My sister seems to think it happened in the early 1990s.

The area that we fished is filled with water now and accessing the pools at the bottom of the current dam are pretty hard to access. I did see some incredible birds though, including a blue heron.

As a kid, I would never think of walking to the river. The distance seemed too great and walking too slow. We'd always go with bikes, clutching a fishing pole and tackle box with one hand and a handle bar with the other. I'm not sure how I got home carrying the fish I caught. I only had two hands. Perhaps I had a basket or something attached to the bike. I don't remember.

My parents are still in the home we grew up in. Truthfully, Dad could be in a nursing home. He moves very very slowly and needs mom to take care of most things. However, Mom insists that it is better for her and him to be home. Going up and down the stairs of this two story house provides exercise for him. If he was in a nursing home, he would largely be confined to a wheelchair or a bed. 

He likes to spend time sitting outside in the sun. His tan will attest to that fact. Yesterday he got up from his chair on the concrete deck and slowly made his way to the back of the property. He spotted a branch that needed to be picked up and cut into smaller piece. The round trip might have been 200 feet, but for Dad at 90, it was a significant journey. 

After making a hearty vegetable soup, I went to the one eatery that was open on a Sunday and enjoyed a 90 minute conversation with a former high school classmate. Brent and I sat together in the band for many years. We were both trombone players. It was such a great visit that I didn't want it to end. It was especially nice to hear about his passion for food, how it has developed over the years and how it might inform his path going forward. Brent was insightful, reflective and very generous in sharing his life journey. Thanks Brent!

I stopped by my Uncle Lloyd and Aunty Lydia's place before going home. It's always important for me to touch base with my uncles and aunts on the rare occasions when I make it back here. It's fun swapping war stories and sharing a few laughs. 

Mom and Dad like sitting outside in the late afternoon, soaking in the last vestiges of sunlight, particularly at this time of year. Soon sitting outside will be impossible. Being stuck indoors is tough on all of us, but it's particularly difficult for seniors.