It gives me no more joy than to sit in mom’s bedroom as she lay in the bed talking. That’s what I did for most of the afternoon. Mom also lets me drink all the soda I want while I am there. The fridge in the basement is full of it and all kinds of interesting varieties. We mainly talked about her frets and worries.
“I was out of it last night,” mom told me. “I don’t think I am ever going to get over this cold.”
“You’ve had the flu,” I replied.
“But I’ve had both of the flu shots!”
“You had a variant that the shot didn’t cover.”
“I couldn’t even remember my own granddaughter’s name last night,” mom told me chuckling. “Your father was like, ‘Martha!!!’”
“Well, I forgot her birthday,” I replied feeling shameful trying to consol mom. “I still want to send her a card with some money.”
“I’ll help you with that,” mom said.
Helen works nine to five and was still working. She came bustling into the bedroom just at that moment.
“Get up now Mrs. Martha,” she said with a grin. “I am changing your sheets.”
Mom climbed out of the bed with her hair all amiss. She was still in her pajamas. That was my cue to head on home. Mom went and got on the couch in the den as I was leaving.
“I love you,” she told me. “You ought to do this everyday.”
“I would if you could pry me away from the Internet that long,” I said jokingly.
I drove home with the passing thought that I should stop by and bother George, but I worried I would wake him up from sleep.