I dug out from a foot and a half of snow this St. Patrick’s Day morning.   It reminded me of how sick I was when I faced the almost two feet of snow from the St. Valentine’s day nor’easter.

I was alone then, but now I have my parents to care for, my mother snoozing under rugs in her recliner, my father nattering about technical concepts in his shorts and singlet.  The corned beef is simmering on the stove, and they drowse.

It may well be a race to see which of us dies first, but they are also mine to take care of, and while that is hard and lonely, it gives me something to get up for, something to work for.

Don’t you need someone to love, even someone who doesn’t really know how to love you back?

Somebody to love, which gives you as much health as you can scrape up, eh?

2 thoughts on “Health”

  1. I want to say that the neighbor two doors up helped yesterday by snowblowing the end of the drive — being where the road straightens after an outside curve we get a dumpload — and today a neighbor offered me a ride after seeing me at the local milk store buying the NYT for my father.

    I believe these are lessons that people will help, that they are caring, lessons from my mother in the sky. I didn’t take the ride becuse I believe walking will help me get in better shape, but I was grateful for the offer.

  2. I know that my parents love me. I wouldn’t be here for them if they didn’t. But do they know how to love me back? Well, that’s never been easy for them.

    And the question comes up as Rabbi Schmuley negotiates between a 16 year old and her father on the TV. Schmuley notes that kids will forgive parental mistakes, but that they can’t forgive what you never try, that sins of omission just aren’t something they can get past.

    The love is there. The loving, well, sometimes that seems in short supply.

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