In which I explain my absence

This is a story about aging and facing others aging. I told you about the MIL's accident. And she's getting better, really. But what we found out as a result of her accident is not getting better. MIL is or has been spending way more than she has and as a result is in very bad credit card debt, can't get homeowners insurance on her house and can't pay for it even if she could. We've had to make some really big decisions that children, no matter how old, shouldn't have to make. They involve lawyers, incompetancy, and a power of attorney. So all of our energy has been on handling this part of life. And dealing with all the temper tantrums resulting from this. Mr. Truck's sister, my sister by heart, has been bearing the brunt of all this but we have been directing things from afar. We are all exhausted and sad that it has come to this but really, it is the best thing for now. MIL is in her house, her bills are paid on time and she can't have her check book or credit cards anymore. She is extremely angry and ungrateful for this and I can understand that. My hope for us is that we don't ever make our children go through this. I don't want to outlive my independence or my money for that matter. Through all this, I've been knitting. A lot. And one thing I found out again is how comforting knitting is. The familiar motions and soft clicking of the needles, the slide of the wool through my fingers, the faint smell of sheep. I don't have to think about what I'm doing most of the time and I find that amazing and yet not unexpected. I've been working on a Christmas stocking for Reese for the past couple of nights. It's a pattern that I've had for almost twenty years now. I've made a lot of them, for family and friends. It was the first sock I ever knit. It started me knitting real socks. And as I pulled out the pattern and started, I remembered it without even thinking, my fingers knew the next stitch without me even looking at the words and I find that so comforting.