reflections commune for aging hippies

 

Rico has always wanted to live on a commune - not a creepy one with dress codes and cults - just one where everyone lives close by and bands together to help their neighbors. Since he has trouble understanding the concept of what exactly this new place is all about - we explained that it was basically a commune for aging hippies that needed a little extra help. This seems to sit pretty well with him.

Today he decided that we're buying a beach house in Oahu. Nika and I brought in pancakes and we sat in the sunroom discussing if a pool was really necessary if we'd be living right on the beach. We decided it was. The four million dollar home was really nice, but the six million dollar one was closer to the shore - so we chose that. Once we move in, you're all invited.

I'm with him a lot of the time - except for weekends. I've been trying to give Neeks some "normal" days to be a kid, so we visit twice a day on the weekends, but I don't sit with him for more than an hour or two at a time.

It sucks. It really sucks.

As soon as I came home to an empty house, I screamed. Hot angry tears covered my face and there was no stopping my frantic hunt to find any piece of him that was still here with us. 

I desperately searched for something that smelled like him - his sheet, a towel, the t-shirt he'd been wearing, but guess what? Glioblastoma steals that too. There is no Rico smell left in our house. Nothing. 

There is no sound of his voice, no click of that leg brace that used to signal his approach even when he'd try to sneak up on my with a kiss. There are no conga drums banging away in the basement, no constant business calls, and no 60's music in the background. Even the dental floss he used to accidentally leave in the shower - gone.

They haven't come to pick up his hospital bed yet, so I lay on it. I try to imagine how he must have felt, trapped in that bed for four months, relying on me, whomever stopped by and his addled brain to make even those most minute decisions for him. 

I'm sure, we'll both feel better once we get to that dream house in Hawaii.