人生百味
作者：Kathryn Slattery
Mom’s eyesight was 1）deteriorating, but I didn’t know just how bad it had gotten until I saw her stooped in the one-bedroom 2）in-law apartment attached to our house, reaching to pick up something off the floor. She grabbed at it, then studied her empty thumb and forefinger with a puzzled expression. Again she tried to pinch the glimmering spot on her living-room rug. Nothing. Frowning, she turned to me. Behind the thick lens of her glasses her blue-green eyes 3）clouded with concern. "Mom," I said, "it’s just a patch of sunlight." She shook her head, 4）wary to admit something was wrong. That much I could be grateful for. Her attitude was always positive, even determined. She 5）took the challenges of getting old in stride.
Back when she first moved in with us, I didn’t know what it would be like. She was in her late 70s, fiercely independent, and I was a mom raising two kids in the suburbs. We hadn’t lived under the same roof since I left for college. We were unalike in so many ways. She was 6）disorganized and spontaneous； I was a bit of a control 7）freak. My idea of fun as a girl was 8）alphabetizing the books in my bedroom while she loved to spend a whole afternoon shopping, especially if there was a 9）sale. I thought it was an incredible waste of an afternoon. In junior high I insisted that my shirt and skirt had to match exactly. "Don’t be afraid to mix things up," Mom would say. "Everything doesn’t have to match." Oh, yes, it did. But all that was long ago. What would it be like having her right here with us? She liked to entertain friends 10）at the drop of a hat. She loved it when people dropped in unexpectedly for tea and a chat. I liked 11）having company too, but I preferred advance notice. Twenty-four hours. Minimum.
At least her apartment adjoining our house had its own kitchen, its own bathroom and its own entries. It makes sense to have her move in, I told myself. We could get right to her if there were some emergency. Still, I wondered. After so many years apart, we were such different people. And she was so independent. We made sure Mom had her own mailbox and phone, and soon she had her own friends. I could hear their laughter through the wall and the sound of the whistling teakettle. I could peek through the window and see the table she had set for her bridge group, mixing the different patterns of china and 12）glassware. So like Mom. For a moment I wished I could be so creative.
We found ways to help her deal with her 13）macular degeneration. My husband, Tom, installed bright 14）halogen lights in her living room. My sister, Laurie, sent away for a special telephone with big-print numbers. We used colorful plastic 15）adhesive buttons to identify the proper settings on her 16）thermostat and microwave. Then came that morning I saw her picking a spot of sunlight off the floor. "Maybe I need more help than I thought," Mom said. I took a deep breath. "Yes," I said, "I guess so." I should have been prepared for this, but I wasn’t. I thought things could stay as they were. Mom was going blind, and the doctors said nothing more could be done. I retreated to my kitchen and said a prayer for strength.