Saturday, March 17, 2007
I can hear my mother's deep breaths...
...held for a moment at their apex and whooshed out, as I pass her bedroom. This tells me she's retained what I told her several times last night, that I'll be awakening her "earlier than usual" in order to hustle her in for a blood draw. As I usually do, I bribed her memory with the promise of a sausage and scrambled egg breakfast, seasoned with MPBIL's Southwestern Fire, accompanied with an apple-maple-walnut pastry, which have become one of her favorites since I introduced them in December of last year.
I'm always amused and relieved on mornings like this. They remind me that my mother's memory isn't as fey as usual in regard to some things: Favorite things, I think; like Bible Movies, for which she'll forgo a nap and in which we've lately been indulging, since I ordered two series for her; the promise of a trip, which we'll be taking on Thursday, down to Mesa for her six-month, routine doctor's appointment; the possibility of a flower delivery...
Time to awaken the Mom. It should be a rousing day, today.
I'm always amused and relieved on mornings like this. They remind me that my mother's memory isn't as fey as usual in regard to some things: Favorite things, I think; like Bible Movies, for which she'll forgo a nap and in which we've lately been indulging, since I ordered two series for her; the promise of a trip, which we'll be taking on Thursday, down to Mesa for her six-month, routine doctor's appointment; the possibility of a flower delivery...
Time to awaken the Mom. It should be a rousing day, today.
