... is lashing the bay outside the windows. I rose early to walk on the boardwalk, to do grocery shopping, to have my breakfast and to generally be ready to greet the day more productively than I did yesterday. (Yesterday: a day of sloth. Permissible on the first full day at the shore, especially, when you've had to get up at 4:30 to drive folks to the airport). I was able to accomplish everything I needed before the rain... before even the hint of rain in the air.
My dad slept till nearly noon. When he arrived in the kitchen (cleaned up from my and the children's breakfast, and filled somewhat with the groceries I'd purchased) he uttered an expletive.
It is hard to watch my dad. He teeters from task to task, seeming to suffer from attention deficit disorder, he who was so very focused all his life. I have been watching him (because he will not let me do it for him) prepare himself a bagel and orange juice and tea. He has been doing it for about 25 minutes. He stops and goes to the freezer, wondering if he's defrosted the meat for dinner. Everything takes a very long time.
I wonder if he really doesn't enjoy our being here?
That was a bratty thing to say. I think it is hard for him. I think it is hard for me, but only in a stunted emotional way. I really have no generosity of heart sometimes. I take it all personally.
Who said the art of family life is learning not to take it personally?