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2007-10-30 || 9:37 a.m. || october 30 || a funny milestone you're not supposed to talk about: i helped my mother with a bed pan. i pulled it out from under her and walked it to the bathroom. she makes jokes about it and i try to hug her, but it must be weird having someone try to hug you while you're peeing in a hospital bed. when i walk out to get some coffee i start sobbing. i didn't know it was in me; i was so happy to be needed like that, in the most immediate way, far past blushing over your mother having to take a shit and your standing beside her to hand over toilet paper. outside the son of the woman sharing my mother's room is outside on a cell phone. he sees me lose it and holds his hand out briefly, still speaking into the phone, and i nod at it and walk around the parking lot. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |