Last summer I needed to find a place to live, but the housing market was overpriced and moving fast. I was terrified I wouldn’t find somewhere before I was forced out.

In the mornings I noticed I counted the days as I distributed Mom’s pills. Monday’s pills in the little cups I use for morning- afternoon-bedtime. Tuesday’s pills. Wednesday’s. Each day passing reminded me that I was on borrowed time in my current house. Soon the whole week was up, then two weeks. Time to refill the pill boxes. Counting precious time by weeks. Time slipping away to find a new home. A reminder every morning.

Today I noticed that now I count the hours of the day by the clocks in the kitchen, hours slipping away each time Mom needs me. I am trying to nap or relax, finally get settled again, and, again, there’s a knock on the door. I get up. Again. I see the clocks in the kitchen as I pass by. I notice the time each time I get up to help.

It’s 2:00. That’s okay. Still a lot of the day left. Now it’s 2:30…. But now it’s already 4:00?! How many times have I been up and down these last couple of hours?! I am trying to rest on one of my few days off. Trying to read. Relax for a few minutes. Knock. Up again to help. And again. And again. The hours fly by as I watch my day of relaxation slip away.

I was calm when I started helping earlier in the day. Now I’m feeling agitated each time. I feel my frustration building. I am angry. I just want to rest! I have this new book that I am really into and want to read more than a page at a time!

I am trying to breath deeply. Trying to find calm in the chaos. I can do this. Deep breaths. Control what I can control.

My mom can’t help it. I’m not angry with her; I am angry with the situation, with the responsibility. I am resentful that life isn’t the way it used to be, when I could make my own plans and live just for me.

Eventually, she is tired too and we both get to relax. It’s the same pattern each day, and I should probably learn to count time differently, rearrange my schedule to relax when she’s ready to too. Or not count the time passing at all and try to see it all as precious moments spent together. There are constantly lessons to learn in this process; that one is the biggest lesson of all. Over time, I am learning.

“When the time is right”… I found the perfect home at just the right time (praise the Lord!!!!). In time I will figure this out too.

And when I haven’t yet, a lady I follow for caregiving advice posted today, “You don’t have to be a perfect caregiver to be a good caregiver”. A perfectly timed message for me.