Picnic in the Park

Dear Tatum,

Michigan invited us to a picnic with music in the park near her house. I was surprised that Grandma was up for it, but I am always happy to get out of the house, so we went. 

We had a new wheelchair delivered from hospice today and that made things a little easier. It's a real wheelchair rather than a transport chair. It's a little heavier to load and unload, but easier to maneuver on the ground. I packed the extra clothes, rubber gloves, wipes, and off-brand Depends (the adult version of a diaper bag), and we were off. 

We stopped at Michigan's house, loaded up the picnic food, blankets, and chairs, and headed to the park. A nice man let us park illegally so we didn't have to park a mile away. We found a good spot in the grass and planted ourselves there, not far from the bandstand. We ate. Even Grandma ate, something you can't always count on. It started to rain and I thought we might leave, but it let up quickly enough. Grandma didn't even complain. Michigan's neighbors and friends arrived and joined us. 

At one point, Grandma was looking around for something and I asked her what she was looking for. Her response: "Maybe you should mind your own business." In addition to renaming me Ginger (read: forgetting who I am) she has taken to getting quite frustrated with me. It presents itself rather passively: sometimes she'll ignore me and other times she'll respond with a mocking tone. It's generally subtle, but easy to detect if you're me. Eventually she told me she was looking for her cane and I handed it to her. I explained that I moved it so she had more space for eating. I added  that I offered to help because I probably could. It doesn't do much good to explain such things, but I always hope it will have an impact. 

On the car ride home I asked her if she had a good time and she said, "Yes, better than I expected, even though it was loud." 

Love,

Gin