I just got back from spending a few days with my mom. The thing about dementia is that it never gets better. So when I am asked how my mom is doing I always answer the expected. Worse. I drove the 3 hours back to the city I live. I spend a fortune per month on rental cars. I spend zero dollars per week at the urban farm where I volunteer. I parked the rental car next to the plot of land. I got out. Kissed my husband who was already there and started digging. I cried. I turned over the soil sometimes in rows. Other times where the soil was rich and soft. Nothing much else helps ease my sadness about my mom’s illness. A big bag of Doritos helps. When my husband rubs my back helps. Digging soil in anticipation of plants producing flowers and fruit. Nothing beats it.

i am a first generation italian-american who grew up in southern new jersey. Life is amazingly beautiful and devastating. Sometimes in the same day.

i am a first generation italian-american who grew up in southern new jersey. Life is amazingly beautiful and devastating. Sometimes in the same day.