We went out for lunch yesterday. Although usually, we have breakfast instead. When I was a little girl, sometimes she'd make breakfast for dinner - pancakes and eggs and bacon - and it seemed like a magical thing.
And also, frankly, at noon on Sunday, I'm more ready for breakfast than I am for lunch, and mom likes pancakes, so there ya go.
She speaks softly in a kind of stream-of-consciousness way these days, all, "... and there's a red one, and a blue one, and a yellow one! ... exit ... that sign says exit ... and there were birds! Big birds ... so then I told her, "No, YOU behave!," and we all laughed ... and there's another bird, over there ..."
And all the time, I'm cutting up her pancakes for her, 'cause she can't seem to grasp the mechanics of silverware anymore, and I'm putting the cream and sugar in her coffee and stirring it up, and I'm listening to her talk about birds and exit signs.
And I mean ... it is what it is. She once was one person, and now she's another person. And I am sure there are other people yet to come. I just hope that in the next phase, she can see the future or tell me some winning lottery numbers or something. Wouldn't that be cool?
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About Me
- rockygrace
- I was born in 1962; you do the math. (See also: I'm too lazy to remember to update this thing regularly.) I bought my first house in the summer of 2009; I share it with four cats and with the memories of The Runt and Little Girl, who both passed away in 2011. Rocky, the cat for whom this blog was named, passed away in 2008; I miss them all. I wish I lived somewhere where the winters weren't eight months long; other than that, life is good.
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4 comments:
Goddamit, now I want pancakes !!
I love pancakes. Even knowing that they have virtually no nutritional value (especially drowned in butter and syrup, the way I like 'em), I still can't resist.
We also had eggs benedict, home fries and bacon. Mom and I know how to EAT.
Waffles, baby.
And you're a wonderful daughter, although you probably don't want to hear that right now. I wish I could have done so right by my mom, but it just wasn't possible.
And I like her stream of consciousness. Maybe you should start recording it. It's like reading Ulysses.
Oh my God, Becs, according to the sister with whom my mom lives, I'm a "bad daughter leading a sinful lifestyle". A few years ago I did a design with a made-up family crest and that phrase, which cracks me UP, and then I had it printed on t-shirts, which I handed out to those of my sisters who have a sense of humor.
and yeah, she can weave some pretty fantastical stories. When we go to antiques stores, she'll talk to the stuffed animals there. It's scary and fascinating at the same time.
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