Glasgow – sitting still

Glasgow – sitting still

Once again, my trail has brought me to Glasgow to see Mum. The hiking boots and the rucksack went south and I came north. Just a Virgin train and the No 4 bus from Central Station and I’m quickly back in another world. I had said that I would come and visit again now, but my arrival is always a surprise these days, a pleasant one I believe. This is perhaps the one upside of my mother’s cognitive state of advanced forgetfulness, that plans vanish, slipping noiselessly and unnoticed from her mind.

From day after day walking mile after mile it’s a sudden shift to the sitting position. For there is a lot of sitting to be done spending days with Mum. This is an indoor world of regular mealtimes and long silences. Yesterday, I sat watching her sleep. She complains of a deep tiredness that overwhelms her in the afternoons. She seemed to sleep with her eyes not quite shut as if staring intently into an inaccessible space. I wish I could see what’s there in her sightline; but maybe it’s better that I can’t. Here I pass the days as an onlooker, sitting still.