I sat in one of the tall chairs at the kitchen bar, sipping the few drops of tea left in my cup. Several remnants of my breakfast cereal clung to the bowl I had pushed aside. My morning prescriptions and vitamins (five of them, one white, one pink, one ivory, one yellow, one orange and one green) glared at me beside my drained orange juice glass. I got up to take them, washing them down with a glass of water from the filtered water container in the refrigerator.

I returned to the bar. It was sort of my hang-out at my son’s home in Opelousas, La., since I arrived the day before his May 10 back surgery. On Wednesday when his doctor gave him the nod for limited driving, I made reservations for my flight home.

Now as I pondered how to stuff some pieces of clothing acquired during a spur of the moment shopping binge in my small bag and wondered if there was any way I could lug my heavy lap-top computer along with the bag as carry-on luggage, I began reflecting on my stay.

Since my son slept late every morning, I often sat at the bar alone. It was where I ate, checked my e-mails, read The Upper Room and Streams in the Desert devotionals, played Rummikube with him several times a week (he’s three wins ahead of me right now), made shopping lists, and talked on the telephone with friends and relatives.

As I write from the bar, I see the carport from the panes in the kitchen door. It is cloudy and windy. Two sets of chimes, one large, the other small, hang from the side of the house. They move gently, stirred by a breeze rustling a large shrub visible from the kitchen sink.

Tendrils from a tall bird feeder completely overrun with vines and greenery wave in the air. When I joined my son on his spacious screened back porch where he spends time writing, we agreed that the shape of that structure reminded us of Big Bird.

It has taken me all these weeks to adjust to driving my son’s 2010 Camaro Super Sport with orange racing stripes — his dream car. Just in the past week have I stopped grabbing the windshield wiper lever to shift gears.

The sporty car attracts attention. I have noticed people staring at it when I pull into a parking lot. Somebody asked me about it at a beauty salon. A man driving a Hummer parked beside me at a dry cleaner shop and walked over to admire it. I think some people are surprised to see a little old grey-haired woman driving a sports car. I admit I’ll be glad to get back to my own car.

I am thankful my son is doing well following his surgery and appreciate the many prayers on his behalf. Although surgery is not pleasant, it presented a rare opportunity for us to spend enjoyable time together.

Nina Keenam is a former resident of Baldwin County and Staff Writer for The Foley Onlooker.