Slobbering Oatmeal into Her Sweater

Our virtue or excellence does not drive our actions but by the act itself. "We are what we do," ~Aristotle.

Saliva mixed with cooked oats and brown sugar dripped in small streams from the wrinkled corner of her mouth onto her hunter-green cable-knit sweater. The kitchen emitted the aroma of cooked oats. Still, the scent of brown sugar dominated the ambiance, making it more attractive, reminiscent of when my parents lived here many years ago. The creek on the floor next to the archway notified me of Dad's approach, and Ada and I separated the kitchen and the living room. We went down the stairs, dressed, and sat at the table to prepare for breakfast. Mom, her apron stained by her culinary exploits, cooked a superb meal fit for Canadian Living magazine. My days spent with my mother's sourdough bread at meals are priceless; I long to relive them. It is not that simple. Following my departure, Ada remained at the residence. My parents died while I was young; my father died of cancer at fifteen, and my mother died six years later from a ruptured appendix.

When I assisted Ada with her dinner, I noticed a lot had changed since then. Are you content? Are you satisfied? I asked her.

I never expected to care for my sister at 26, but that is the family's responsibility in times of distress. It paralyzed her at the pinnacle of her existence. I abandoned my promise to help her by reorganizing my life for her convenience and ease. She deserved at least that much.

I continue to consume oatmeal. I allowed her to speak while remaining silent. I determined that nothing she said would drive me to respond and begin the never-ending exchange of quarrelsome and inconsequential speech. Considering her fragility after the accident?

Despite her need for support, she denied my offer. Every day, I arrived before dawn and left after sunset, ensuring she received at least two nutritious meals, albeit the reasoning remained opaque. This morning marked my return to work after a month-long absence.

If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed that instead of drooling, I would stop eating as I finished. I endured her resentment.

I no longer have time for this, Ada.

Do you consider this worthless? You are not aware of the full extent of my distress. How brazen of you to bring it up with me? You don't grasp the scenario, right?

The sun hadn't yet risen. Apprehension, or perhaps dread, was visible on her face in the kitchen's lighting. Hearing her daily stories, I recognized it when I yelled at her. Yes, I lost my temper! I erred in my actions and felt shame.

This morning, I kept mute and rejected her caustic remarks, regardless of their content. Because of her involvement in an accident, I wanted to prevent her from feeling any worse, but given the circumstances, I found it difficult to restrain myself. The cost of my humanity and my disgust for future human action are substantially different.

As the terrifying reality dawned on her, she overcame it. She closed off the world with a paid assistant to help her with personal concerns, which she begged me to avoid.

The air was invigorating, and the sun spread scarlet and orange hues across the sky as a large fireball appeared over the horizon. I pushed open the dusty drapes, allowing the sparkling sunlight to illuminate the dreary chamber and lift the mood. I also turned on the air conditioning and set it to a suitable temperature for the day because Ada overheated.

My time restricted; I only had around twenty minutes; if I delayed any longer, I'd be late for my first day back at work in person. I helped Ada in the bathroom and then into the shower. First, I scrubbed her hair, then her body. After wiping her feet and legs, I gave her a housecoat. I then ensured the rest of her body was dry before dressing her for the day. I cleaned her teeth and sat her in front of the TV. I gave her the remote control.

Before my departure, I asked Ada, "Would you mind doing some laps today?" Could you share your experience with me over dinner?

She objected. I told you not to attempt such tasks alone in your absence. Do you remember? Your absence extended, so I should do it later. Are you aware that I may be exhausted by then? The day had ended. Regardless of the circumstances, I remain the eldest.

My popularity dwindled quickly. I'm starting work today, and Ada will try to practice a skill the doctors said she should and should have been doing much sooner. The request was laudable. Her incapacitated state continued to perplex us all. Ada was concerned by her inability to progress beyond this point and was unaware of the reason.

The shower revealed her extreme emaciation and fragility. Despite the early hours, Ada needed a nap. Her hair appeared clean but resembled a combination of bedhead and greasy hair. She also needed to do a lot of dancing.

What would her reaction be if, after supper, I played music from our childhood and we danced together? Will she take part? The question was if she would laugh. She hasn't laughed for quite some time. It's tiresome to hear her story about the accident over and over. I assume she needed to erase the memory of the accident from her mind. My thoughts raced through my mind.

I noticed a slight rattle coming from Ada. "I can take the day off." This would entail making multiple phone calls and setting up my laptop at the kitchen table to handle any demands from my coworkers. Proceed as previously established.

My supervisor is fantastic. He says, "As long as you produce results, I am unconcerned about your employment location!"

"What prompted her cooperation in this matter?" I will persevere until dinner.

The absence of horses provoked reflection on the farm. I considered the property considering the horses' absence; Ada could no longer keep them. Once the horses were sold to other ranches, she wept hysterically. Ada was a whirlwind of erratic emotions, unsure whether it was their departure or her failings. She wanted to avoid discussions with either her counsellor or myself.

I noticed her lying in the television room when I arrived that evening. Her sweater was knotted around her neck, and she could not remove it. I approached her, and she just blinked at me. She said nothing but snorted at me many times.

"Oh, my goodness!" Ada said as she fell over.

"What happened here? Ada, are you well?"

"Do you have any injuries?"

"Ada, how long have you been in this state?

"I'm doing well! I collapsed, my legs failing me, and this sweater made my arms uncomfortable. I should not have worn it this morning. I simply wounded my dignity. My gratitude is profound." She snorted again as I positioned her upright and hurled the sweatshirt across the room.

I went ahead with my most recent tactic, anyway. "It is acceptable,"

I comforted myself. "I'm working today and will resume my duties as your roommate this evening."

"I have already declined the offer of another roommate, and I am resolute in my decision," the woman said.

"I beseech you not to bear any animosity toward me." Her arguments didn’t convince me today. "Thank you."

She remained silent at the kitchen table and looked at me. As Ada made her way to her chamber, the mood was tense yet serene, like the crimson sunset in the west.

She tried to rise and enter her chamber but could not do so. I assisted her in going to bed. She diverted her eyes from me. I extinguished the candle. "Goodnight, my dear. Until tomorrow morning."

A murmured "goodnight" followed by silence.

The following day, she awoke and asked for my order when I got up.

"I'd like a poached egg on toast," I said. She was less impressed.

When I finished, I set the egg on the table.

"Would you like some orange juice to accompany your breakfast, dear?"

"Indeed, that appears to be excellent." Spending the entire day at home with her was a pleasure this time. Her condition worsened in the afternoon compared to breakfast.

"Can you be content or at peace with your circumstances, ever do you think?" I posed a challenging question to her, especially in the morning.

"What's the rationale for that? Is there a problem? She responded harshly. "Incorrect?" 

"You must be joking!" I cried.

"You must be the most awful person I've ever met. Let us live, will we?"

I took my coffee and sat on the steps to watch the sunrise. As the sun's rays touched the earth, the landscape changed, illuminating the forest surrounding the home and creating a magnificent, peaceful image.

The woodland, ornamented with tones of golden red and egg-yolk yellow, and the trees covered areas of light, giving the landscape the appearance of a painting.

Ada joined me within twenty seconds. She saw the sunrise as well. Her perspective has shifted.

The discussion was inadequate, and the atmosphere was hostile. I seized the opportunity and launched Operation Old Times.

"Hello, Ada. Similar to our past, there will be a dance following dinner. What do you say?"

I expected this criticism; I believed I could control my emotions and behaviours. "No, thank you; I will abstain from that, sister!"

"Ada, if you put in effort, you could surprise yourself with the level of interaction between your mind and body."

"I am fatigued at present, so I wish to retire for the night," she said. I obliged and helped her into bed. I considered how to free her from her universe and immerse her in mine. I realized that unbroken sleep was uncomfortable, regardless of her ire.

When I woke up the following day, Ada made coffee loudly in the kitchen. The air was pleasantly warm and dry. When I walked into the kitchen, Ada had already poured a cup of coffee for me.

"Thank you, Ada!" The coffee smells delicious! "Thank you; I struggled to recall the preparation method, so I consulted the can."

Ada said, winking at me, "I'm sure you'll appreciate it."

Who is this person? What did they do with my sister? Regardless of the circumstances, I refrained from voicing dissatisfaction.

She asked, "Would you prefer to observe the sunrise first or have breakfast?"

"I shall choose the sunrise, please, Bob!" Curtain 1: no curtain. 2. No wait; curtain 3. She chuckled. I paused. She paused. Her glance shifted toward me.

She claimed that impersonations of Bob Barker and The Price Is Right frequently upset her emotionally. As we moved to watch the sunrise, we sat together at the wooden table. "I predict it will arrive at 5:13 am," I told her.

"There is no possibility; it will not occur until 5:30," she replied.

Let us make a bet on it.

Despite my incapacity to fathom the metamorphosis that day, the burden of caring for Ada became more joyful and bearable as time passed. She turned from rude and hostile to cooperative and friendly.

As these examples show, gaining perspective on an issue or empathizing with another's experience can increase our humanity while decreasing individualism. She was no longer irritated.

Our relationship remained intact, and my evidence of this helped her overcome her urge to be furious and move forward with me.

Ada's awareness that life is more than just soiling one's jumper with porridge made me happy. She and I established a stronger sisterly tie than in prior days. Before the accident, despite the difficulties encountered en route, I would not have traded the experience for any amount of gold. She'd returned. Amen. I remember when we used to laugh and have so much fun. It wasn’t all that long ago, and I felt sorry, sad, and tired that I couldn’t have any more of that time back. But I would take what I could get. It was enough. Exalt the Lord. I felt proud to have taken action and given outstanding care to Ada. 

I aim to achieve as much virtue and perfection for Ada as possible.