March 26, 2007

• BRADENTON, FLA. - Doyle and I drove from Harrison to
  southwest Florida Thursday and Friday, on what my priest friend from
  Mississippi calls a Pilgrimage of Love, to see my mother, who is
  suddenly desperately sick again.
  Driving from the Ozarks to the subtropics
  was like time traveling through the various phases of springtime and
  into early summer. I distracted myself from my worry about Mama by
  soaking in the scenery as we traveled.
  When we headed down Highway 65 South Thursday
  afternoon, we were driving through early spring. The
  just-barely-greening woods were needlepointed with lavender redbud in
  rich bloom, with the lacy white blossoms of sarvis trees shyly peeking
  through here and there. Vivid bursts of yellow forsythia were
  spraypainted in yards throughout the Ozarks, often accented by nearby
  deep pink Japanese quince bushes, and the white spirea that dotted the
  hillsides near old farmhouses.
  My heart sank a little when we left our beautiful old
  hills behind, just as they're bursting out into their spring finery.
  I'm always a little sad to leave.
  We drove on through Little Rock and Pine Bluff, and
  passed through poor, tornado-blasted Dumas after sunset. After crossing
  the rickety old Mississippi River bridge at Greenville, we stopped for
  the night in Greenwood, in the heart of the Mississippi Delta.
   Driving through the Delta on Highway 82 in the
  bright sunshine Friday morning, we were able to see the springtime was
  more advanced here in the warmer flatlands. Fields were plowed, ready
  for cotton planting time. Dogwoods were glowing with white blossoms,
  and more fruit trees were in full bloom, pinks and purples and whites.
  A wonderful highlight of our trip south was an hour
  spent in the Waffle House in Starkville, having breakfast with my older
  son, Alex, whom I hadn't seen since last fall. I don't guess there's
  anything that a mother loves more than sitting next to her child and
  hearing him talk about his life. I couldn't stop patting his arm as he
  drank his coffee and ate his steak and eggs.
  From Starkville, we drove past my old college town of
  Columbus and crossed the border into Alabama, going through Tuscaloosa
  and then down to Montgomery. Springtime was down to serious business in
  the Heart of Dixie, where we saw our first purple wisteria blossoms
  hanging down like bunches of flowery grapes from the trees. And then,
  just north of Montgomery, we were delighted to spot the fuchsia azaleas
  splashed around stately Southern homes.
  The farther south we drove, the greener the woods
  became. In northern Florida, we turned off Interstate 10 onto I-75 just
  as night fell, and drove on through the warm, soft Florida night until
  we arrived at my sister Re's house about 10.
  Friday morning, we woke up to find ourselves in full
  summer, with bright sunshine, green yards, and flowers that never stop
  blooming - hibiscus, jasmine, bougainvillea, lantana, , oleander.
  Once again, I've come to this Land of Perpetual
  Summer to my very sick little mother's bedside, praying that I'd get
  here in time to see her one more time before she crossed the River. And
  once again, our tough little steel magnolia is hanging on to life with
  tooth and nail.
   I had gotten a call last Monday from my sisters
  here, telling me that our Mama was in intensive care, on a respirator,
  battling a sudden and severe case of pneumonia.
  I'm not sure if my mother knows I'm here, but it
  makes me feel better to be able to stand by her bedside for a few
  minutes, to kiss her forehead, to hold her hand, to smooth her hair
  back from her face, to whisper a prayer. Her eyes are closed, but when we talk to her, her
  heart rate and respiration numbers, in bright colors on the monitor, go
  up, and we think she is aware we're there, and is wanting to talk to
  us, but it's just exhausting to her to try to be roused from this
  sleeping world she's in, so we let her rest.
    We were gratefully surprised today to find Sunday,
  when we arrived at the hospital at noon, that they've already
  removed Mama's respirator, and that she's hanging in there, so far,
  without it. She's still pretty much unconscious, but she's breathing on
  her own, and showing some improvement.
  Last night, we were overjoyed to hear the nurse's
  report that Mama had responded to a couple of questions with a word or
  two in a tiny whisper.
  Like glowing Ozarks dogwoods, the hope of springtime blooms brightly in our hearts.

  By Celia DeWoody

  Copyright CPI, Inc. 2007

  Published March 26, 2007, Harrison Daily Times, Harrison, Ark.
  

  • 8:49 pm
  • 5 Comments