As per a kind reader's suggestion, I'm trying a daylog. From others I've read, the content varies, but I had thought it more like a journal entry place.
That being said, I'm no longer at my mother's house but back to my usual reality after my husband got in a car accident when a woman in front of him on the highway fell asleep at the wheel, hitting a light pole, and dragging a large chunk of it under her car. Miraculously, she was not hurt.
The chunk dislodged from her car and my husband couldn't swerve to avoid it, so it ended up under his car, breaking the front axle. He was not hurt either, and managed to steer his car to a narrow shoulder to wait for the State Troopers and tow truck to arrive. He doesn't have a cell phone since he's quite hard of hearing, so the tow truck guy called my son saying, "Yo, yer Pop's been ina accident. He's shook up, but okay. Canya pick him up?"
I get a text "Dad was in accident. Going to get him."
This all happened as I was still at my mother's keeping an eye on her rising blood pressure, while she kept trying to plan Thanksgiving. I don't believe in signs from the Universe or whatever, but this was the car we use to go camping, so I'm re-thinking that plan, which two months ago sounded fine.
So I packed my bag, hugged my mom, and said, "if you need me, just call and I'll be back."
Home, where there are endless things to get done before winter: dig up forgotten potatoes in the garden, deal with the insurance company, cook and clean and be wife/mother/grandmother. Home, where a large part of my heart is. Time to paint the house, put away the summer kites, bring the houseplants inside. Time to remember the holidays are coming, when all is cheery and bright.