fidgeting

My younger son has agreed to drive me down to Wellesley Hills, a community outside Boston, to visit my stepmother today. It's about 90 miles away and may be the last time I ever see my stepmother, who is in her early 90's.

The trip is outside my comfort zone of being retired and puttering around the house. I fidget mentally in advance, though the event itself is likely to be easy stuff. There is enough history to make a couple of hours-worth of reunion easy. But what will I wear? Will I remember to get some money for incidental expenses? And what conversational nourishment can I bring to any social interaction when little or nothing goes on in my current circumstances?

Fidgeting and projecting -- an old habit I am less and less capable of coping with.

Oh well.