kerouac says

my mom's here. i am feeling bad about feeling sad and anxious while she's here. i am also feeling bad about being disappointed by her aging. her vision is a lot worse and she won't wear glasses, her hearing is a lot worse and she won't get aids, and her sort of general helplessness has increased by lots of folds. the subway system and its accompanying map is a particularly difficult hurdle. i wonder how much of it is that she can't see the map to read it, but whenever i ask her if she knows how to get somewhere, even if i have just explained it and the map is in her hand, she just parrots back some terms she's heard me say before: "i'll get off at herald square* and take this yellow line to a hundred and third***!"

*my subway doesn't stop here.
**she means the broadway line, but she's pointing to the F train.
***the upper east side. except, her finger is pointing to the village.

i love her so very much, with everything i've got, and i could badly use some momming, but the energy is weird and sort of stilted. she's so out of her element. i'm anxiety-riddled and want everything to be okay, and she can't even read the map. it's going to get better. tomorrow we'll have a whole day to do whatever we want. tomorrow i will not see a cruise ship on a commercial and suddenly feel a terror pit deep in my stomach (terror of what? that i will never get it together enough to go on a cruise? who wants to go on a stupid cruise?). tomorrow i will take five deep breaths and count my blessings and maybe we will go see a movie.