Day #64 Writing Through COVID-19: Wrong Words

On Saturday I greeted my parents with a breakfast tray and the announcement that they'd been living with me for eight weeks.

I thought this was a milestone to celebrate. We've had eight weeks of health and (dare I say) happiness.

Two months ago, when I delivered their first meals with extraordinary care (all the food groups, color variety, pretty dishes, special treats) I wondered if my enthusiasm for meal presentation would wane. But it really hasn't. My parents are the perfect patrons: they praise each meal; they wash their own dishes.

We have had daily poetry readings; reflective, honest conversations; much generous laughter; many shared movie nights.

We have not fought. We have irritated each other only minorly. None of us has been unkind, short-tempered, or impatient with each other. This is remarkable in that during my final three years in my parents' house I was perpetually unkind, and we were all impatient and short-tempered.

So when I announced our 8-week success, I did so happily.

But my dad misunderstood my message. Later that day he contacted two of my siblings, concerned that he and my mother had overstayed their welcome, wondering when they could return to Ft. Dodge.

I was floored. I couldn't figure out why my dad was trying to arrange to go back when my perception was that we were thriving.

So I asked him.

Yes, he admitted he'd thought my "eight weeks" comment was to say their visit had gone on too long. He thought I hadn't bargained on them staying into the summer.

When he told me this, I teared up. While I understand that my "Can you believe you've been here eight weeks!?" might have been interpreted as "too long," hadn't my daily actions and words assured my parents of their welcome?

As we talked, I believe I was able to patch over my morning's mistake. He agreed he preferred to stay here as long as Friendship Haven is still restricting residents to their rooms for health safety.
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Communication can be treacherous. My blithe words (Eight weeks!) had missed their mark. But it was a trust in communication that allowed us to reset, and in fact, come to a clearer understanding of each other's hopes and fears.

Enough.
Be well.
Write.

Allison