Running Away from Home

I was caregiver for my mom for the last 3 years of her life before she passed at age 92 years old.

She had begun having signs of dementia and couldn’t live alone anymore.

I began to prepare my house to move her in. Even though I was still teaching full time, my youngest two kids were still at home going to high school and college.

I planned to take her to a senior activity center near the college when I was at work. Then my kids and I would take turns making sure someone was always at home to care for her. She was physically fit, mobile, and still played the piano on occasion as she had done her entire life.

Our plan fell through one Sunday morning, however, when my independent mom got dressed and left my house headed to a bus stop on the main street with the intent of going to the mall. Never mind she didn't know where the nearest mall was located, nor the name of it.

For over 38 years she had lived in Los Angeles, 37 miles away from the county where I lived and was not familiar with my neighborhood nor the bus system. The bus system is very limited in the suburbs where I lived, and I didn't know the schedules or routes, especially on a Sunday.

I had left a girlfriend to mama-sit her while I went to pick up my youngest daughter from church.

But my clever mom, in spite of suffering from dementia, took advantage of my girlfriend going to the bathroom to make her escape out my front door to the first bus stop she saw.

She had even gotten dressed up all cute with a 2-piece top and skirt, and used the sash to tie around her head to fashion a cute head band with a bow and streamer hanging to one side near her left ear. Her matching purse was hanging from her arm.

As I was returning home, I decided to go to the store while I was out. As we were going down the main street toward the store, my youngest daughter said, “Mom, look, there’s a lady at the bus top who looks just like Grandma.”

A quick glance confirmed it.

“That IS Grandma,” I said as I whipped a U-turn pulling to the curb. She smiled when she recognized me, like a mischevious child.

I ordered her into the car, as I realized that my plan to have her live with me was not going go as smoothly as I hoped.

At another time, I'll tell you about the time she and her boyfriend (she called him her “man friend”) were plotting an escape.

That chick was a handful.

I haven't written up the boyfriend story, so stay tuned for that one. It's a doozy.