Well I actually didn’t decide so much as she called me yesterday to ask me if I would assist her by taking her to the local UPS store to mail some books to her grandson (my son) in Arizona. I can’t do anything in the morning without eating, so I invited her to the local diner for some eggs, coffee and fried potatoes first.
I have a laundry list of a ton of things to do today as my days off are limited and the last thing I need to do is to sit leisurely in a booth while dipping toast in egg yolks and sipping weak coffee, while listening to my Mom go on about topics that are important to her.
I’m SURE she’ll be on the Bin Laden bandwagon and tell me how absolutely ecstatic she is about his death and that America will be safer and stronger in the near future as soon as we get a Republican President back in office. She’ll ask me if I listen to Rush Limbaugh (again), as I tease her with my standard reply “Who would name their child Rush anyway?” She’ll ask me if I saw what Glenn Beck said on FOX TV, to which my standard retort will be “Didn’t he write a story about a Christmas sweater or something?” to distract her, and it’ll work.
She’ll get frustrated with my short answers if only for a minute before she moves on to the latest milestones going on with my brother’s daughters who my Mom visits frequently. As I chew a piece of bacon, she’ll inform me that she wants nothing for Mother’s Day on Sunday except a beautiful flowering annual that I get her EVERY year that she replants in an old half rain barrel by her front door. She continues to tell me how it gives her such joy to see it as she leaves and re-enters her home in the summer.
Perhaps as I finish up my last scoop of fried potatoes she’ll explain that my aunt and uncle’s health is okay but I should stop and see them more. She’ll ask how Daryl is doing as we get up and I pay the check and she’ll tell me to give him a big hug as I tell her that we’ll see her tomorrow morning at a pre-Mother’s Day breakfast at my brothers. She’ll sort of squeal with excitement at being able to see me two days in a row and we’ll head for the car.
I’ll drive her through West Chester, the town she grew up in, and she’ll share memories of this place or that street that she’s told me several times before. I’ll engage as if it’s the first time and we’ll laugh and sigh once or twice as we ask each other those “whatever happened to” questions.
As I pull up to the UPS store, I’ll sneak a glance at my Mom in the morning sunlight as she gets out of the passenger side of my car and realize that while she totally gets on my last nerve at times (most times), I won’t have her always in my life, and I’ll smile and throw an arm around her as I open the door for her to the UPS store.