Click to Play It's sort of a southern dream world down here. My grandmother, we've decided, has borderline personality disorder. She's also 85 and going blind. She has 35 head of cattle and over 30 acres of pasture. The amount of work and trouble involved in this farm is way too much for a little old blind lady. But despite all of the mounting evidence that she shouldn't be living here, she insists that if she's meant to die alone in a field, then that's just how she'll go. I've been here for weeks trying to put in place some help and support for her, since she can barely cook without burning the house down. But she digs her heels in and refuses to believe she's actually blind. I can't imagine how hard it is to be old and losing your control on the world anyways, let alone losing your vision. But she either needs to find some grace, or break a bone. The only thing keeping my heart and brain alive down here is baby cows and two hours a day at the falling down ymca. I've always hated running, but somehow here it soothes my claustrophobia in this tiny, sad town. I wish I could paint a better picture of just how dysfunctional my grandmother is. Though, thankfully she isn't doing things like wearing boxes on her feet her losing her way in the road. But since her whole life has been filled with cooking and cleaning and being a domestic slave (of her own choice), now that she can't physically or visually do those things anymore, it's like her life has lost it's meaning. She's built her whole world around laundry and cleaning and now that those things have become difficult, she's left with nothing. No friends, no movement, nothing. So I don't blame her for trying to sabotage our efforts to ease her chores, since she doesn't have anything else. If she didn't fret about what to make for dinner the moment she woke up in the morning, what else would she think about all day? Soon I will be home, and all of my time and energy to move her into a new stage in her life will fall away and hopefully she won't burn the house down.
