The call came Friday evening. My friend had fallen and could not get up. I could not get her up, so she was carried off to North Hospital, where after a few days of evaluation, she was given her release papers on Tuesday. Yesterday I took her home, where she now is, based not on the doctor's recommendations, but on her insistence that she would not go anywhere else.
Last evening I thought, "I'll just leave on Friday as I planned," but after waking this morning about 4 a.m. stewing about what I needed to get done before I left and what had to be in place so I wouldn't worry about my friend while I am away, I concluded that a little more time here in the north country would be a good thing. Besides, I haven't seen snow here since October, so what's the hurry to leave?
Last Sunday we held our touching farewells, my choir and church friends and I, in an event that was also celebratory, given that it was my 71st birthday. Now, that I'm not leaving until Monday morning, I feel a little awkward. What if my friends had planned a celebration of my being finally out of their hair for a few months? What if they're disappointed that I've messed with their plans? That, of course, is juvenile thinking - isn't it? Don't you just love long farewells? Oh what some people will do to get more attention than they deserve.