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Tag Archives: mothers
“Oh, look at that one!” My mother pointed a crooked arthritic finger at a brilliant blue-and-yellow fish circling the tank. I had wheeled my mother around so that she could face the voluminous salt-water tank, the centerpiece of the orthopedist’s … Continue reading
“You have to take my side. Why can’t you take my side?” It was my mother calling, around 10 pm. Boys were asleep. I’d been watching The Piano on my iPad. A movie where I could escape to New Zealand … Continue reading
“I’m alive!” It was 7 am. I had just poured my first cup of coffee when my mother called to report that “they” had been wrong: “They told me I was going to die, but I woke up this morning … Continue reading
There’s a stranger in my mother’s house. She greets me at the door in comfy moccasin slippers. As if she’s living there. Which she is. I enter the house as if I’m a true guest, rather than my mother’s daughter … Continue reading
“Something’s happening.” I’d just gotten out of the shower, into my comfy sock-monkey-patterned pjs when my husband handed me the phone mouthing, It’s your mother. My hair was dripping. “What’s happening?” “Things are all jumbled in my head. And I … Continue reading