Touched

Two-thirds of Miki’s family visited us last weekend and the St. Louis third visited us through the mail today.  I was touched three times by three different Heynes this week.

Touch number one came from Millie, Miki’s mom.  I have accused Miki of running a seniors sweat-shop, using her mom to make her homemade cards, knitting scarves, and transporting home cooked meals across state lines for our consumption.  This last visit, after spending two days with her daughter, while Miki’s brother and I were working on the tree house (or playing golf), she stepped into my care giving shoes and got a taste of Wallieworld.  Millie came up to me during a tree house break and said she got a taste of what it is like to be me, taking care of Miki for a while.  She thanked me for being such a good caregiver to her daughter and it touched me that she would make the effort to share that with me after experiencing some Miki-time, even though she has expressed that sentiment a number of times before.  Just like we’ve learned from those we’ve met dealing with their own cancer issues and even though we share the word cancer, each path taken is a bit different than the next.  I am assuming each caregiver connected to each path also experiences things a little different than the next caregiver.  I would not substitute anyone for me on her path, but I draw the line at doing craft stuff!

Touch number two came from a moment Miki shared with her brother as they were saying their goodbyes, after he spent 3 days risking life and limb (tree pun…did you catch it?) adding part of him to her tree house.  When Miki reflects on growing up, there is usually a reference to how close she viewed her relationship with her brother.  Over the years I’ve witnessed a handful of times when those childhood roles came out to play and I could imagine them up to no good or supporting one another at a trying time as siblings do (or should).  Before heading back to the Palmetto State, they posed for a picture of their less than full heads of hair together, just one more thing they now share.  As her thanks for making the trip from South Carolina and working on her dream were expressed and their goodbye hugs were exchanged, she teared up during their heartfelt embrace, as did her baby brother.  At that moment, I briefly felt that childhood connection that only they can sustain, as life called each one back from their childhood to their daily lives.

Marty and Miki...or is it Miki and Marty...no, its Marty and Miki...I think!

Touch number three came in writing today, in a card her sister Gail sent from the other side of the state.  She and her husband Rik visited us a few times this summer, among numerous phone calls where she and Miki would catch up.  Her card was short in length, but mighty in it’s message.  She said someone suggested that you have a plant for each member of your family, so you can nurture them as you would your family member, when it is not possible to be there in person for them as much as you may want to be.  She was going to get a “Miki plant” and nurture it each day.

Miki continues to be stronger, brighter, and hungrier than anytime in recent Miki history.  She is becoming a bit more independent and adapting to doing more as her body seems to be finding its way back home.  Enjoying her strength while its here, knowing that this is a journey and you never know what is around the corner.  She touches me each day in ways words cannot do justice. 

Miki and her new sleeping while blogging yoga pose called,
Lying on Back while Praying Upward Dog.

Her dinner.

My dinner.

Her breakfast.

My breakfast.

My Zen from Home:  The “tree house” is coming along nicely and while I was eye level with a resident squirrel from the neighboring tree, upon which we are encroaching.  I looked at him (or her) as he (or she) was staring right back at me.  From their vantage point, sitting in the crotch where a limb joins the main trunk, they seemed to be sizing me up before skittering off to whatever it is that squirrels do.  It also has been “raining” acorns from the Pin Oaks that the tree house is constructed between.  It is that time of year when these oaks “go nuts.”  It cannot be more than a few seconds between the sharp sounding thumps of acorns hitting the plywood decking, some of which target my less than padded scalp.  If I didn’t know better, I would think that squirrel I had a moment with, was trying to “touch” me too!

The scaffolding is down and the magic ladder is up.

The "footprint" of the tree "house" is down, along with the decking around it.