We stepped off the elevator into quite the festive scene at mom’s AL community. Mom was enjoying the violinist with friends. The living room, and pub had expanded the dining seating. Mom greeted us, and ushered us to our daughter, who was bar tending. The cocktail du jour was champagne (non alcoholic available), with cranberry juice, a dash of orange juice and a few cranberries.
We found a table in the sun, and then went to the buffet. The executive vice-president was carving in a full-on turkey costume. The last time I saw him, he was dressed as a genie. He joked that he was almost ashamed of his dress. I told him it came with the pay grade, which made him laugh out loud.
The meal was amazing. Even mom said so, though she didn’t eat a whole lot. We were encouraged to visit the ‘room of desserts’ after our plates were picked up. Indeed, the private dining room was full of lovely pies and confections. Mom chose half a slice of pecan pie. Being a Darius Rucker fan, I pronounced it pee-can pie. Mom corrected me: pee-khan pie. I repeated her pronunciation. She was pleased.
After she finished her pie, she told us she’d been cleared to return to the Island, and would need to buy a car before then, oh, and that her license was clear too. “Ah.” Was my reply. She referred to the neuropsychology appointment, saying that it was nothing like she had expected. I asked if she’d received the results, which of course, she said she had. She explained they were just fine, and all verbal, and that we’d have to check with my kiddo to confirm exactly what they were.
The results haven’t come in, and they aren’t going to advocate mom returning to the Island. I am getting much, much more comfortable rolling with this dialog. She’s going keep this up for the rest of her life, and as long as she’s content as she waits, that’s what matters.