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?