Most often, a MOM-versation makes me laugh — hard and for a really long time.
Growing up, when I whined, “That’s not fair,” my dad asked, “Who said life was fair?”
Now I believe that life grows increasingly less fair with each passing year.
Nine days ago, mom pulled up next to a mailbox. However, her “next to” was a little too far away. So, she opened the door, put her left foot on the ground and reached to put her envelope inside.
Having forgotten to put the Honda in park, it started to roll — dragging her with it.
40 feet later, the Honda mounted a curb and stopped at a second curb just outside the Kentucky Fried Chicken. (Ironic? Perhaps. My second job was at a KFC. I lasted five weeks. But, thank God for the double curb at the Colonel’s on 33rd South.)
A pair of good samaritans scooped mom up and drove her home.
Since mom didn’t want to tell her children, “dear Cousin Lynn” (yep, that’s what mom calls her) drove up, dug the gravel out of mom’s knee and bandaged it.
The next day, mom told me because “dear Cousin Lynn” said, “If you keep secrets from Jeff and Julie, they will keep secrets from you.”
To celebrate the 24th of July, Pioneer Day (Pie and Beer Day), mom and I visited the Urgent Care. There, she received antibiotics and a tetanus shot.
One week later, the bandaging was still sticking to the open skin and making it bleed. Mom wanted to see her “wonderful doctor.” So, we did.
Wearing the same house dress because she can “pin it and my garments up to keep anything from rubbing against my knee,” she didn’t smile as they peeled back the bandage.
Doctor: Tell me what happened.
Mom: (Reviewed the accident; see above.)
Doctor: Any other accidents?
Mom (hesitant, but honest) described the accident that totaled her Toyota Camry, the milk incident, etc.
Doctor: Let’s talk about your driving. I think you’re a nice person. You don’t try to hurt people, but it looks like you hurt people when you drive.
Mom was quiet.
Mom: Julie doesn’t think I should drive. But, Jeff, our son, said I can drive if I stay off the freeways and don’t drive at night.
Doctor: It’s time to stop. I’m telling you this because I care about you.
The doctor said he would notify the DMV.
Mom thanked him profusely.
But, I saw a few tears. I heard a sigh.
Mom: I won’t be able to drive to Cafe Rio to get my tostada salad by myself.
Me: I’ll take you.
This MOM-versation hurt both of us.
Me: I’m proud of you.
Mom: You were right.
Me: I wish I wasn’t.
Mom: I know.
Me: Dad would be proud of you.
Mom: Oh, no. He’d be disgusted.
Me: No. He is proud. You are brave.