Thursday, September 15, 2016

Mom Is Talking My Leg Off

"Sometimes I'll talk to your brother Pat, and he doesn't seem all that interested in what I'm saying. Your dad was like that, too, sometimes. You're more like me that way."

"I don't see you every day, so I like to catch up on all the stories you have."

Mom and I are sitting on the sofa. Earlier, I was on my iPhone, using Google Docs to give some feedback to my wife on a business document. So there I am editing the article while Mom jabbers away about this and that. We all end up happy--wife, mom, and me. 

"I don't want to make you work too much," she says about supper. "I've got apple sauce or pudding. I can have some of that lunch meat."

"You want a grilled cheese sandwich?"

"Oh, that's too much work."

"I don't mind cooking for you."

She leans against me, arm to arm, gesturing. She tells me to donate Dad's music to a school "in honor of your dad."

"Yes," I say, "and we can donate photos to the college historical society, like your school friend Haskell did to Chico State, in honor to you and Dad."

"That's a good idea."

We get ready for supper, which includes a chicken and pasta dish. 

Mom says, "I remember when my dad killed a chicken for dinner. 'I'm not eating Henry!' I said."

Of course not. My mother would never do something like that. 

(Composed and posted by iPhone 6+)


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