A Caregiver and Her Papers

Any idiot can face a crisis - it's day to day living that wears you out.

-- Anton Chekhov

It's late, and I sit on the floor in the study, piles of papers surrounding me. There is mail to open, papers to file, files to make, papers I need to follow up with phone calls, and papers that must be shredded. There are papers having to do with Romeo's stay in the nursing home, papers from insurance companies, statements from financial institutions, bills, astrology charts, ticket stubs, schedules, and business cards.

I don't want to take care of any of it. I don't want to file any of it away. I've had it. I'm done.

I put on some music and lie on my back on the floor, on top of all those papers. And then I move my arms and legs as if I were making snow angels with all those white papers. They go everywhere. I don't care.

I sit up and look around me. Papers. I listen to the music: Dust in the Wind. Yes, how true. All we are is dust in the wind. And then I get angry at Romeo for getting dementia, leaving me to handle everything alone. And then I cry. In less than 10 seconds, it's over. I'm cried out. I get up, peruse the scene, take the music into my heart, laugh at the mess, and walk away, content to leave it all for another day.