2019 March 23
I talked with an old friend of Mom’s yesterday on the phone. We had not spoken since almost a year ago, after Mom died.
Anne. Or Ann. I am not sure how to spell it now. Her husband Don was a fellow worker at Grossmont, or rather I believe he was actually Mom’s supervisor for a while. She taught many years with the Grossmont District, in the home study program – she would visit students at home if they were too sick, or injured, and could not come back to school yet.
In recent years, Mom had regularly gone out with them for lunch roughly once a month.
Ann and Don had lived in Alpine, twenty or thirty miles east of the city in the hills. At the beginning of the mountains, folded around the southern slopes of Viejas Mountain (its peak is just above 4100 feet above sea level). The town lies nearer to an elevation of 2000 feet. I have been studying the location because I found a rather attractive trailer for sale in a mobile home park right in the center of town.
Ann and I talked for a while about family, her new home in a senior community in Rancho San Diego, and her old home in Alpine. She mentioned how far east of town it was, and that just coming down into San Diego entailed at least a seventy or eighty mile round trip.
There is fire danger there. That is one concern for me. Ann mentioned how they were always concerned with that possible disaster. She also complained that there is not much shopping in Alpine, compared with the big city down the hill.
I felt better after talking with her.
It has been a year now since Mom died. I miss her.
But I remain deeply grateful she had such a good life, and was able to leave us with very little suffering.
God was kind to us. I know that is a superstitious statement, but it is exactly how I feel.
Now, if I can just finish this work I am loath to address.
The house must be cleaned. The stuff must be distributed.
I found her mother’s old toy stove. I was cleaning out the linen closet. All kinds of stuff hidden away in there.
Found some linens, too.