Am at the local library (I LOVE libraries) typing this in the warmth of the lobby. Ahhhhh…
I spent the afternoon visiting with my mother. I’ve been out of state for the past few weeks and just flew in last night. She was sleeping when I walked into her room and shook her gently on the knee to wake her. My mother is not an emotionally demonstrative person, but she certainly made me feel as if missed. “I thought I was dreaming,” she said. She even reached out to hug me.
We had lunch together, along with her roommate, Stephania and talked about the storm, the trees and long ago vacations. Mom was enjoying herself, smiling a lot, so I decided to take a picture of us.
Me – Why did you growl at the camera?
Mom – I was smiling.
Me – Come on. Really smile.
Mom – Just take the damn picture.
Me – C’mon … Smile for my birthday.
Mom – Today is your birthday?
Me – Like that! Beautiful!
Mom – I look about a hundred years old.
Me – No, you don’t! You look beautiful!
Mom – You’re full of shit.
She was in such a good mood, we even sang a song. She started with ‘Happy Birthday’, then went into a rendition of ‘My Ding-a-ling’ (a family favorite). Then I reminded her about a gold pendant my father gave her years ago. It says, “Don’t worry. Be happy.” She hasn’t worn it in awhile. We both began singing the song, in ‘harmony’.
Mom – Don’t worry. Blah … Be happy. Blah, blah …
Me – Come on, Mom, you can do better than that … Don’t worry. Be happy.
Mom – Arg%*@ … Bla&*% … bleck … p*hpt%t … (or something like that)
Me – You can do it. For my birthday.
Mom – (kind of scream singing)
Nurse (wildly dashing through the door) – Is everything okay in here? Sounded like she fell or like she’s in pain. Is she hurt?
Mom – Don’t worry.
Me – Be happy.