My mom came to visit me this year. She surprised me, as I had no idea she was even on the way, thinking instead she was visiting some friends in NY.
I recall an incident I experienced when she was here, with some sadness.
Like most children who grew up in my generation, I was punished by corporal means, i.e. a switch taken to my behind for transgressions. (Note: some I still don't understand what I did wrong).
Mom was generous with the corrective rod so to speak, though I think she realised that many complaints by 'upright' neighbours were really because they liked seeing my siblings and I under fire, perhaps to revel in their own smug 'superiority'.
On the days we exercised the option of using our legs, well, she could throw a shot putt at us if need be.
So it was with a measure of alarm, and a great deal of sadness when one day during my visit, I saw my mom struggling to lift a little brick out of the garden.
I think it was then I realised how old she is and how time has flitted without a conscience, stealing the vitality from the one person who has been the one indestructible force in my life.
I admit, I never thought of her as being vulnerable, not even when she was diagnosed with diabetes several years ago. Funny then, that the act of lifting that brick, and having to use two hands to struggle with it when once upon a time she could have flung that at me from half a football field away... to be such a little thing to remind me of mortality.
Take this blog as a reminder to be more appreciative of those around you.
