February 12, 2014 Mom is 95
As I arrived today at Mom’s apartment, she was looking at photos of her and Dad—as teenagers and at their wedding. They were best friend for 74 years. My but he was handsome.
As I sat down, Phyllis, Mom’s neighbor, came in. I gave her a big hug—which she loves. Usually that’s the end of it but then she walked up to Mom and gave her a hug. Sweet.
Then the usual gambits:
I tell Mom that I intend to beat her at Scrabble. At this she pretends to cry. At the conclusion of the game, I say, “You did very well. You scored 275!” (Not bad at all. She regularly beats my sisters.)
Two beats and then she (knowing what’s coming) says, “And you got?” “474,” say I.
As she laughs, I add, “But you realize that if I win, you win. It shows what a good job of raising me you did.” (I’m always trying to mention the fact that I am her daughter.)
During the game, she will occasionally say “Bless my soul,” immediately followed by “Would you like my soul?”
I always tell her that she should keep her soul. “You will need it when you get to the Pearly Gates,” I say. “Dad will be waiting, and you don’t want to have to admit that you gave it away during a game of Scrabble.” She laughs.
I tell her that I have to go the dentist and again she laughs, adding that she and Phyllis will hold me down so the dentist can work on my teeth.
When I ask to use the bathroom, she holds out her hand and says, “That will be 50 cents.” Then she relents and says “OK, you can go for free…this time.”
My wonderful, smiling, laughing, cheerful mother. I simply adore her.
Painting of purple primroses