Dilemma

I woke up shivering, dreaming that the African sun had disappeared. The sky was darkening quickly, the temperature dropping. Herds of zebra ran amok, their black-and-white stripes bouncing reflections against the glowering clouds. I saw a wildebeest with a broken leg and a disinterested lion not 10 feet from it, sniffing and grunting.

I shook the dream from my head and shuffled off to get coffee, take my meds, wash my face. 

And then I remembered: Art's mom fell and broke her leg Thursday night. I'm dreaming of Africa, and she's breaking things. She's 85 years old, but except for an undiagnosed neuropathy, is healthy as the proverbial mule. With a busted leg. She could live to be 100. And five. Art's her only child. And now she's in a "rehab facility"--read nursing home--with a leg so swollen it'll be four days til they can cast it. 

So, am I the lion to her wildebeest?  

I suddenly feel desperate. How can we plan a trip to Africa--no, not a trip, but a life change--with an old woman dependent on us for practically everything? She lived her life, made her choices, raised her kid, did her ironing and never left the country. Is it fair that we leave her here in the company of her friends while we traipse off to live our lives? She'd never come along--the uncertainty would kill her if the flight didn't. Should she have a choice in the matter? In my heart, I know the answers to these questions.

Coffee cup in hand, drop of Kahlua and a dollop of sweetened condensed milk for flavor, I opened the blinds in the kitchen. 

It was beginning to snow.