My mom fell Sunday.
I’m grateful that my sister lives only a couple blocks away.
My phone is text hot.
And I battle guilt.
I’m squished between grandchildren and aging parents.
And in every crisis I struggle with whether I need to go now or to see if my presence is more needful later.
I live 200 miles away.
My bags have been packed all week.
They’ve found a brain tumor they believe is malignant.
Things don’t seem to be going too well right now, and my sister has to be tired.
My dad, too.
I can’t stand it any more.