Shelby's Eye

She slammed the car door too hard. It rattled the snow off the back window and the dirty snow globs around the tires fell to the garage floor. Shelby gingerly stepped over the gobs and walked into the house. The cats came running and the dog was almost tripping her with their pet excitement. It’s nice to be loved. Shelby put down her purse and slumped into the kitchen chair. She stared dejectedly at her freshly painted pink counter tops. They had brought so much joy, rolling that perfect shade of pink on her mid-century home in a quaint little Minnesota town.

She had just dropped off her 71-year-old mom after a musical in downtown St Paul. It was good, not great; second half better after a glass of wine. She remembered having to hold her mom’s arm while walking through the icy streets, the confusion in her mom’s eyes when ordering the after dinner meal, the anxiety expressed at Shelby’s driving. Which made her wrinkle her nose.

Her relationship with her mother has been complicated. Her mom had a way of making her feel unseen for lack of a better word. When she had told her about ending her engagement with her first boyfriend, after the wedding had been planned and deposits sent out; her mother had responded with “I think I will get new kitchen cupboards.” To which Shelby pulled the phone away from her ear and just stared at it for a second or two. There was no advice, no empathy, no sympathy. Just a constant move on in the narrative. Hide what is not pleasurable, always KEEP GOING!

She slowly moved her gaze to the wood floor. She was not prepared for her mom to get “old.” Her mom was always so full of life. She lead church prayer groups while playing guitar, she bowled, she sang, she wrote, she shopped; she was life. She had worked hard as an accountant then an IT manager at a time when IT was just forming and one of the only women in the field. She would laugh with servers, make jokes, and always seem to find the joy in life.

This was the first time her mom had seemed old. It was unsettling, it felt dark all around even in the bright evening sunshine. She thought of her friend who took a 4 hour drive every other week to help her own aging mother. When Shelby had listened before she would express sympathy but now it all seemed so real. She was not ready for this, had no idea what this would entail. Would it be years of illness and steady slide into uselessness? Was she totally over-reacting? Was she ready to give up huge parts of her life to take care of her mother? After the cancer and divorce and finally finding a healthy relationship with a wonderful man? Was she terribly selfish for these thoughts?

Her gaze rose to the owl statue she had recently put on the tiny ledge next to the chalkboard in her pink kitchen. The owl steadily gazed back with its wise knowledge. Another friend had told her of all the owls she had seen after her boyfriend had died way too young; that the owl was the symbol of the soul that had passed according to natives.

It was then that Shelby realized that life was a series of slight reprieves from death. That it is all around us, we can never escape. Death will always be the end. She knew then that while this would be another hard path to navigate, that she would be there for her mom because there really was no other choice. She would start looking for another play to go to because you only have these brief moments and we need to exploit the joy for as long as we can.

She slowly stood up, walked over to the owl and took it down.