Have You Met Me?

After work, I ran to Target for some household basics. And some lip glass.

So in line, the cashier, a young man, said, as he swiped the lip gloss through the scanner, “You don’t need this.”

“What?” I asked.

Because it’s an odd thing to say.

“You don’t need this.” he said. “Your lips are pretty enough.”

“Thank you.” I said, because, really what else is there to say.

So, I still have it. Or, at least my lips do.

The roads were pretty bad tonight and I decided to head straight to home rather than go pick up my dog from my mother, The Diva’s, house. The pup would have to sleep over at my mother’s house, which is fine because they adore each other.

Adore might not even be a strong enough word.

So, the evening progressed. She sent me pictures of the dog waiting for me. She sent me texts of their time together. And then I got this email :

Well, they have been plowing and T does not like it.  He told me he had to go out but I knew the truth.  We played with various animals and I even opened the front door so he could look out the storm door.  Then I found one of those “busy bones” so he has been better.  Now , he is still looking at me like I have to entertain him.  I have College, you know.

All is well, folks. All is well.

“How did everything go today?” a voice called to me when I got out of my car at in my mother’s driveway.

I looked around and a woman with a cane was standing at the shared mailboxes, with a cane, waving at me.

I had never seen this woman before.

“Fine.” I said.

“I love your dog.” this woman said, as if we were long lost friends.

“I’m pretty fond of him too.” I said. I have no idea who this woman is. I have never seen her before.

“And I love your mother too.” I said.

“Yes.” I said, trying to hurry into my mother’s house. “She is something.” Something is the key word.

A few minutes later, inside my mother’s house, I told my mother, The Diva, that I met one of her neighbors. “And why,” I asked, “does she know about my day?”

“Oh,” said my mother, “I may have talked to her.”

“And you wonder,” I said, under my breath, “why I tell you nothing. Strangers know things. Strangers.”

My mother ignores me.

My mother and I both have iPhones. Tonight, we used ‘Facetime’ – basically video conferencing in case you did not know – to talk before I headed out for dinner with a friend.

“I think,” said my mother, as she came up online, “you really should brush your hair.”

I ignored her.

“Really,” she said, “doesn’t having all that hair in your face bother you?”

“And,” I said, about to hang up on my mother and the ‘Facetime’ with her, “we’re never doing this again.”

Usually, when I get to my mother’s house to pick up the dog after my work day, he greets me as if I am a returning war hero. He is jumping up onto my lap or running circles around me in excitement. Last night, I got to Mom’s and my dog did the usual routine but half way through the greeting ritual, my mother mentioned, “I have cheese.”

And my dog, forgot me. He was down so fast from my lap, sitting pretty at my mother’s feet.

So, he knows the word ‘cheese.’ And he likes cheese.

And, I come after cheese.

For Christmas, my brother and I brought my mother a Kitchen Aid Mixer. She had always wanted one and I was excited to find them on sale for 40% off. I thought it was the perfect gift.

And then, on Christmas Eve, my mother opened her gift of the new mixer in yellow to match the kitchen, and she burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Do you not like it?”

“My mother,” she sobbed, between her tears, “always wanted one. But could never afford it.”

I sigh. Her mother had passed away six weeks before. I had no idea that it would be a mixer that brought my mother to such tears.

“We should all start to live before we get too old. Fear is stupid. So are regrets.”

- Marilyn Monroe

Dear Blog Readers -

No, really, I haven’t forgotten to blog. I just haven’t been able to. I’ve been feeling terrible lately. With a root canal thrown in, as an added bonus.

But I remain hopeful that soon things will be better. Thanks to antibiotics.