independence

To the care center to see Essie tonight. We got there as she was finishing dinner; we hung out with her for a bit, then Mom leaned over to her and whispered something and disappeared for a bit. I talked with Essie for a while, asked her how she was doing. Her answer really hit me: "I'm okay. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. I hate being held back, not being allowed to do things." She went on to talk about how she isn't like some of the others in the ward yet, and that she hates not being able to go walking on her own, to go outside, to take care of herself. She said that she knows she'll be worse soon, and wishes that she had the chance to be everything she can now, while she still can. She "hates losing the independence", hates "feeling like a prisoner".

And in a burst of wonderful timing, Mom came back and told Essie, "I've signed you out. Come on, we're breaking you out of this joint for a while."

We went driving around Coshocton, here and there, with Essie reminiscing about this house, that place, that plant where her father worked for 30 years. Mom drove me past the house I came home to after being born, which I really enjoyed. We dropped by to see Richard [Mom and Essie's brother] and Mary [his wife], which Essie seemed to get a kick out of. More driving, talking, remembering, then back to the care center to wind down a bit. Helped Essie into her nightclothes, put more ointment on her legs, then left with hugs and kisses. A very, very good evening.

And now it is thundering, which I love...like I said, a very good evening.