She is thankful for day of sunshine

Once again we have escaped disaster. Twice this month the river has swollen and overflowed. Twice this month the backyard has been under water. The house has remained blessedly dry both times.
I spent most of Saturday walking back and forth to the river and worrying. When our intersection flooded I became even more concerned. Instead of my usual grocery run, I walked over to the local meat market. It was easier to walk, as the street was flooded.
I took one last look at the river shortly before bedtime. The intersection was almost dry. The water appeared to be an inch or two lower than the last time I had checked. The backyard was still a pond.
By Sunday morning the pond had become a puddle. The intersection was completely dry. The river was back within its banks. I heaved a sigh of relief.
I realize that everyone may not have been so lucky. I also realize that the next time it might be our turn to clean up the damage a flood can do. We have done that once before and I have no desire to do it again.
Today I am grateful that the sun is shining and the threat of flooding has diminished. I can go back to trying to decide what, if anything, I should do about my mother. She has discovered that someone has been pilfering change from her change jar. She doesn’t know when this happened. She doesn’t know how much change she had saved. All she knows is that there isn’t as much as she had before.
There have been so many caregivers, therapists and others who have been in and out of her house that it is impossible to say that any particular person is the culprit. It is impossible to know if she, herself, had decided to relocate the money and forgot that she did it or where she put it. There is no way of knowing for sure what has happened.
That is a chance I knew we were taking when I talked her into letting people help her. She can no longer do many household tasks on her own. I feel more comfortable when I know someone is checking on her on a regular basis, and if that someone also does a bit of housework, all the better.
I am trying my best to keep her in her own home as long as possible. But when she calls me and tells me something has gone wrong, I question my choices. It seems that every time she calls, she tells me how terrible the world is.
I try to dispel that belief by telling her that my lilies are blooming or that the raspberries are ripe. I don’t tell her about the kind man who gave me an entire quart of raspberries because I don’t want to listen to her warnings that the man is dangerous or the berries are poisoned. The fact that the gentleman was a perfectly nice guy and the berries delicious, is beside the point.
She is convinced that the world is a terrible place. I try to dissuade her, but she will not believe me. I push the worry to the back of my mind. I look out the window at the sun and shadows on the wonderfully dry grass and am grateful that the rain has stopped. I am thankful that I live in a place where I only have to worry about a bit of water damage and some missing coins.
It could be so much worse. We could live in California and be in the middle of a drought. We could live in a war torn country. We could be in the middle of a famine. We could be dying, with no hope of recovery. So many things could be wrong. Our worries are so small in comparison to what others experience.
For now, I intend to enjoy this sunny day and perhaps take a peek at a river that isn’t nearly as deep as it was yesterday. I’ll worry about my mother some other day.