[image from the ever-inspiring postsecret]
I accepted a Voluntary Redundancy package from my company yesterday. My life is going to change in the coming months and this is likely to affect my contact with my Mum.
The office where I signed the forms is about 10 miles from the Home where my Mum lives, so I travelled on afterwards to see her. I think it prudent to drop in unannounced from time to time.
As I came into the Lounge, I spotted Mum leaning out of an armchair, her attention fixed on a conversation taking place at the dining table. She was smiling, rapt in fascination, and I was instantly glad that she is here now, surrounded by activity, and no longer isolated and unvisited in a flat 300 miles away.
Mum was delighted to see me and started introducing me to everyone: staff and residents that I already know by name, having met them dozens of times over the past year. Mum told me that she kisses a picture of me every night before bed, although she's previously told me that she does that with a portrait of my Father, so I'm not sure if she wasn't a bit confused.
I started going through Mum's 'Life Plan' folder, signing my name to observations and suggestions made by the staff: the Home is very diligent about telephoning every time the Doctor prescribes new medicine, but they were keen that I leave some written record of acknowledgment.
So I was sitting there, turning the pages and reading about Mum's mobility problems and thinking about my own mobility plans - the possibility of doing some traveling once I've worked my notice. Just then, one of the Care Staff walked behind my chair, talking with an IT technician about a webcam.
I had intended to ask about emailing Mum from wherever I was in the world, but it turns out that they've just installed a webcam on the computer in the Lounge, so I might even be able to chat to her face to face from Outer-Whereveristan.
I'm not superstitious normally, but it's moments like these that make me feel guided by angels.