My brother and I packed up my mother’s mobile home, #94 at DeAnza Mobile Home Park, in three days. We cleaned it out three weeks after I’d brought Mom in for a “trial” at Sunshine Villa, a trial I knew would last the rest of her life, if we were lucky. If we weren’t lucky, she could end up somewhere far, far worse.
Mom didn’t know that she was leaving her home for the last time. Because a month-long trial was all she could agree to. But in her case a month might as well have been a year. Her sense of time—except for the eternal now—and the far past, especially around the 1940’s—is pretty much ... [Continue Reading]