Change Of Place

Today I took my friend Ruby to our traditional "spring is here" lunch at Fat Boy's, a local institution where the special is a BLT made with Canadian bacon.  The sun appeared this morning, after 36 hours of snow, sleet, freezing rain, and rain.  I didn't want to tempt fate, but I thought we needed to do our part to encourage the onset of spring.

My timing was good.  Ruby said she'd love to go to lunch.

The phone rang after I called to issue the invitation.  It was Ruby calling me back.  She needs help to finish getting settled into her new place.

In late January Ruby found another place to live.  She started looking last fall when her daughter broke the news that she was listing for sale the property they shared.  Three weeks into the new year a friend in town offered to rent Ruby the in-law apartment on the back of her house, which is just a quarter of a mile down the road from Ruby's cottage.  It was the best case scenario because Ruby was going to have to move eventually.  The new place has privacy, plenty of room for Ruby and her dog, and lots of outdoor space with fields and woods.

Ruby barely had time to digest the reality of her move when she learned that her daughter had received an offer to buy the property, including the house and cottage, where Ruby has lived for the last fifty years.  Initially the new owners-to-be said that Ruby did not need to rush to move. 

Mid-February things changed.  Ruby got a call that she needed to be out of the cottage by March 16.  I visited with her before I left for California and offered to help her start packing.  Ruby had been paring down her possessions since last fall, but she was not yet ready to put her things in boxes. 

By the time I returned home Ruby was moved into her new place.  She says she is lucky to be where she is, but the transition has been chaotic.  It's hard enough to move when it's your own idea and you do things on your own schedule.  When you are 81 years old and forced to leave your chosen home, where you planned to live forever, it is emotionally and physically taxing.  Ruby is exhausted.

Her family and friends have been helpful with the move.  Every time I have been to visit I have asked what I can do to help, and she asks me to take the dog out or she wants to sit and visit.  When she called me back this morning I was ready to do whatever I could to help allay some of the chaos Ruby is feeling.

I arrived at her place ready to organize and put things in order.

Despite her phone call, Ruby didn't want my help with the apartment.  She asked me to take the dog out, and then she laid out plans for what we could do on our outing.  On our way to lunch we stopped to see her daughter's apartment, and after lunch we stopped to buy dog food.  Back at her place we took the dog for a walk and sat at the picnic table soaking in the sunshine.

Ruby thoroughly enjoyed lunch.  She repeatedly commented on the beautiful day and the warmth of the sun.  She said that things will eventually get settled at the apartment, that today she was too tired to do any more.  I needed to honor that, as much as I wanted to do more.  So much has been out of her control that it's important for me to help in ways that she feels will help her the most.

The most I can do is be her friend.