It is said that my mother taught me about weather..."It looks as if a tornado swept through your room!"...
If I had a dime for every time she said that to me I would have retired in opulence at age 30.
I am trying these years to take on more of a parent role with my mother, which my older brother scoffs and tells me to forget. To him it is like trying to tell a hungry tiger who is boss ... eventually you will realize who really has the power...as you are being rushed to the hospital.
So this week I find out that my mother is planning on calling a cab to her house at 3am in the morning. One of my cousins is getting married in New York and she is going. Should I tell you that she is 78 going on 20? I think it is great that she is so active, but if I told her that I was calling a stranger to my door at 3am she'd comment with one of her famous quotes like, "What in the hell were you thinking when you thought that was a good idea?"
I was thinking of a ride...
However, I would never ask her what she is thinking. I do want to live to be 50.
I did volunteer to go to her house and stay the night and get up at 3am to drive her to the Airporter. Call me nuts. I don't want her riding in a cold cab (with a stranger) oat the beginning of her vacation.
It is rare that my mother allows us kids to take care of her. She is so damn independent, and treats me and my brother like we are still teenagers. I love her to death though. This was a chance to take care of her for a change. I cannot begin to count the number of times she picked me up and dropped me off at the airporter during my days of past work travels.
Walking into my mothers home is like walking into a time capsule. I often think of the scene in "Peggy Sue Got Married" where Kathleen Turner goes back into her old home and suddenly it dawns on her that she gets to spend time with her family again. Her reaction as she moves down the hall is surreal.
My brother and my high school graduation photos greet me at the entrance to my mother's home,along with the living room furniture we never could sit upon growing up. It smells of "welcome home" and the comfort food of love. Everything is always the same - the furniture, the figurines, the photos and the lighting. There are no surprises.
Stew is cooking on the stove as the smell of all day home cooking fills the room, making me feel spoiled before I give her a hug, Her petite frame stands over the kitchen counter as she reviews her latest Irish catalog. Soda bread rests on the counter, a martini next to the stove. I collapse across from her on a bar stool, just like I always did growing up. She reaches for a wine glass and pours me a glass of wine, anxious to tell me the details of her trip. I sip my wine and return to 21.
I love watching her. She pushes the Irish catalog over to me as we eye the Gaelic jewelry. She is already thinking of my Christmas gift. Hell, I haven't even shopped for Brian's school stuff yet. I enjoy the moment and show her the watches I like. We talk of Ireland and travel. I am my mother's focus. Funny how we still enjoy being the center of our parent's attention - even at my age.
Her dinner is wonderful, as she fuses about me - refusing my help. We retire with tea to her computer. I check for it to be in working order. Suddenly at 8:30, I feel exhausted. I retire to the spare room to dress for bed. You'd swear my mother spent time in the military for the way her beds are made. It is this perfect origami of sheets and blankets combined with the fresh scent of outdoors - like bedding should.
I pause for a moment to smell the pillows. My old rag dolls grin up at me. Their imaginary voices fill my head. They are glad to see me home. I decide to lay on the bed and hug my old favorite doll. The next thing I know I awake to a dark room. For a minute I can't figure out where I am. It dawns on me that I fell asleep. At some point my mother covered me up and turned the lights out. I am still curled around my old rag doll. Somehow the sight of her 46 year old daughter in bed with her rag doll doesn't seem to phase her.
I am overcome with a sense of peace and drift back to sleep. It is the best nights sleep I have had in years. My mother gently shakes me awake at 2:45. So much for taking care of her. I get up, throw on my sweats and place her luggage in the back of the truck. It looks as if she has been up for hours. i see her off on her bus and drive back to her home. I could have returned to my place, but I still wanted to languish a little longer in the feelings of security I experience in her home.
I sleep until 11:00. Holy crap.
C
