Me – Your hair looks nice today.
Mom – Really?
Me – Yes, you look beautiful.
Mom – You’re full of shit!
~ ~ ~
A couple weeks ago, I was ready to do a poetry writing workshop with my mom and some of the other residents.
Mom – You have to talk really loud.
Me – Okay, I’ll talk LIKE THIS. OKAY?
Mom – What?
Me – When was the last time we changed your hearing aid batteries?
Mom – My arteries are fine.
Me – Batteries, I said batteries.
Mom – I think my ears need to be changed.
Me (after changing out her batteries) – Can you hear me now?
Mom – Why are you talking so loud?
Me – Any other suggestions for the workshop?
Mom – Try something that rhymes … and fix your hair!
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My niece, Melissa was visiting from Las Vegas a few weeks ago and shared this:
When I visited my Grandma in the old folk’s home today, she told me that she didn’t want to be there. I followed up with, “Where would you rather be Grandma?” As she lay in her bed, she smiled and said, “In my marriage with my children as teenagers.”
As my only living grandparent, she still has an incredible way with words. She made me realize that ‘being somewhere’ isn’t always about a location but instead, it’s about a place in time that you shared with people you love.
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Me – May I throw out these purple roses? They’ve been wilted in this vase for awhile.
Mom – Where did they come from?
Me – Beats me, but they’re all dried out.
Mom – You know, someday I’ll be dried out. Will you throw me away too?
Me – Nah … I’ll place you between the pages of one of my writing journals. You’re a constant source of inspiration.
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