A big zero birthday

Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes. So begin the lyrics to the song Seasons of Love from the beloved Broadway musical Rent. The cast poses the question, how do you measure, measure a year?

In daylights

In sunsets

In midnights and cups of coffee

It has been over a year now since we moved to Rome, and in my new role as full time caretaker I find myself thinking a lot about that song, and about how the ways in which we measure time have changed over the course of the past year. How about love? sings the cast in glorious harmony. Yes, love for sure. There’s the morning hug, part of our getting ready for the day ritual, and the goodnight hug and kiss and wishing for rest and sweet dreams. I imagine there are others who share similar markers between the start and end of days, and who have daily rituals like making coffee in the morning. In caretaking, there are medications to take multiples times a day, snacks and meals, and time to just sit and soak in the sunlight.

When we arrived in Rome on my mother’s 89^th birthday a year ago, we headed straight to the beach in Tuscany, to our favorite place, Castiglione della Pescaia. So it seemed natural that we would do the same for her 90^th birthday. Going away has become a bigger deal now, and requires mental preparation and many reassurances that there’s nothing to be concerned about. My mother is not used to not having to do any planning, packing, driving, or even to carry her purse anymore. When we finally loaded up the car and took off, I hit a stone going through a narrow construction area and apparently punctured my front right tire. At the gas station, I was kindly given enough air to drive another kilometer to the nearest tire repair station, but that man was on vacation. They gave me enough air to cross the street to another garage, where they were only able to put on my spare as they didn’t have the tire size I needed. The FIAT dealership up the road didn’t have it either, so by the time I found and had installed new front tires, and made it to the highway, it was already lunch time. Our plan was to be at the beach having lunch with our friends, and here we were just 15 minutes outside of Rome.

I made an executive decision and took the exit for Fregene, a beach town just north of Rome. I had been there once before and was certain we could find a nice place to eat along the beach. My mother was certain I was lost and had no idea where I was going, but just when she was really telling me I should just turn around and go back, I pulled into a parking area by a sign for a restaurant and left the car with a valet.

Maureen ordered fritto misto

Even though it was 2pm at this point there were still people finishing lunch, so we relaxed, ordered seafood and wine, enjoyed the view and the breeze, having alerted our friends that our planned lunch would have to be postponed until the following day.

We got to our beach in time for a drink before sunset and had a nice dinner at our hotel, with the ritualistic blowing out of candles and a few little presents and cards. Mostly my mother has enjoyed the reaction she gets

Lunch at Bagno Somalia with our Roman friends

now from Italians when we reveal she just celebrated her 90^th birthday, as they all exclaim, “Complimenti!” and she laughs about being old. Seeing her surrounded by tan stunning youthful Italian friends at the beach made me think she didn’t look her age one bit, and the bittersweet truth about Alzheimer’s is she often can’t remember how old she is. Numbers are no longer how we measure a year. We’re just grateful for seasons of love.