Cherish

I’m looking forward to my 53rd Christmas. It’s a sobering thought that a decade from now, maybe two, my mom’s generation will be dead and gone, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I need to cherish the moments we have left. 

I remember when my mom was only 32. There was this bus we saw one day that had the number 32 on the side of it. I said, “Look, mama, you’re as old as that bus!” What did I know? To a 10-year-old 32 seems like, well, old. I think we all know that’s not necessary true. But now she’s well on her way to this stage in life called old age, and I wish she were 32 again. We don’t want to lose our mom. No one does. And, yet, nature is as cruel as a fox to a chicken when it’s hungry. It bites you and that’s the end of it. 

But not yet. 

Today mom stopped by to bring me a bottle of Nighttime Cough DM. That was so sweet of her. I opened my front door, and there she was: small, 100% grey-haired and smiling. She was worried I would infect her with my incessant coughing so she didn’t get inside our house. “Here. This for you. You take good care of yourself, you hear?” That was all it took to make me realize for the umpteenth time that my greatest enemy was this relentless hour-glass hiding somewhere in the distance, safe from my need to shatter it or, perhaps, put a plug in it, or a sock. A Christmas sock. 

A smelly blue Christmas sock. 

When I wanted to walk her to the car, she said, “No, son, you stay inside. It’s cold and you don’t want to catch a second cold.” That was all it took to make me feel like that ten-year old again. (“Look, mama, you’re as old as that bus!”)  So this Christmas I will remember to hug her and tell her I love her. We may not have an awful lot in common, but my mom is always there for me, even when I least expect it. 

Happy Holidays, mom. Happy Holidays, friends. May this Christmas be a good one. 

Blue

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Mrs Blue created this wonderful gateway to heaven.... (spared no expense either)