The secret of fudge

My sister came down tonight. I'm so delighted. It was fun to be with her in Mom's nice, neat apartment. She'll spend time with her tomorrow when I'm off doing something silly with a friend.

We laughed a lot.

We went through a couple boxes of kitchen things that our mother will never use again. (One of the reasons for assisted living was the fires she had in her old senior living apartment - that and the gnats from spoiled food). So, we split up the utensils, the bowls ("oh, I remember making cookies in that!" "I remember dad making fudge in that one!"). Sharing the secret of fudge. It was nice.

There were difficult times in that house, growing up. But there were also those nice times when we were connected. It was this AND that.

I love my sister and I'm so grateful for her support. Caring for Mom is like pushing a boulder down a football field. With my nose. And because of her circumstances my sister can't do as much in person, but I treasure her being a cheerleader on the side (and when she can come down to push that boulder along).

My brother is nowhere to be seen (or heard...). But I won't let that get to me today. I revel in my sister. We'll go get my mother in the morning and have breakfast together. Fun.

PS - She told a story that our grandmother was in a nursing home, seemingly comatose sitting in a chair. She suddenly sat up, became coherent, and asked the aid, "Do you know the secret of making good fudge? Beat it a LOT!". Then slumped down again, silent. My sister told me that story.