Love Is Fun

... but getting to it isn't.

I've been spending a lot of time with my mom in the hospital. To recap, she's 88 and fell and broke her neck a week ago. My dad died on January 1, so she was already hurting before this catastrophe. She's healing and should leave the hospital for a rehab nursing home tomorrow.

As I was saying, love is fun. When I get there to sit and hold her hand, it feels wonderful. It's what I'm supposed to be doing and it makes her feel good. Driving there is another story. That's when I'm grousing about having to do it, what a hassle it is and how I have so many things I'm not getting done. When I leave, I have such a sense of happiness. I've made someone's day brighter. It's lovely.

What's the deal with the dread of going? Some of my Cursillo friends would argue that it's Sparky trying to get me to not go. I dunno, I think it's more like some kind of separation pain from my normal, daily routine.

It's weird.