REMEMBER THIS:

When we stop laughing is when we grow old!

it never stops!

I visited Mom the other day and as she lay on her bed, immobilized by 2 strokes, she perked up to see me. I bent down and kissed her on her forehead and sat next to her and she answered my questions about how she was doing!

Soon the conversation shifted to the past and people we knew, and things as children we did. It seemed to me that there was a lot of stuff Mom never knew about that I was afraid to tell her, and so began a confession of sorts about my transgressions of the past. These were the things that if I told her when she was healthier, would have been met with a wooden spoon on my head!

wishful thinking

It seems the more I got into admissions of past transgressions, especially in my earlier years, the more Mom would smile, and the more I admitted, the more hearty the laugh and the eyes would sing.

It seemed like there was anticipation in her eyes as I related one story after another, all being so funny to her that her eyes squinted in a watery flow of tears making me feel so good that I was doing this.

When I got up to leave, there was a small sadness that I was, but life goes on and so did I, guilt-laden leaving the room as I kissed her goodbye.

I guess all those things I did were for a reason, a good reason, not so much because I was bad, but because they would be needed in her hours to come. As she said to me: “You were always getting into trouble!” I was, but the police never had to come to the door looking for me, the teachers never banned me from the classroom and the neighbors only knew me to be helpful. But I left Mom’s home, feeling so good that I made her laugh, and I cried to myself.