A Great New Friendship

I always thought of myself as a good daughter. As soon as I left for college, I started calling my folks every week. Back in the days when letters were more common, I even wrote once a week.

 

A few years ago, when I got a cell phone with unlimited hours, I thought, why not call Mom twice a week?

 

In the summer of 2020, my mom had knee surgery and was in the hospital and rehab for most of July. I know how not fun it is to be in the hospital, so I called her every day.

 

Once she went home, I had a brilliant idea. Why not continue calling her every day? My husband Murray asked why I’d only been calling her twice a week before. My only answer was, “Habit.”

 

I usually call Mom around 2:00 in the afternoon, when a TV show she likes to watch is over. I love this time we have together so much.

 

I was never really a good daughter. When I was younger, I didn’t want to talk to my parents about personal stuff. As I aged, I thought I shouldn’t say anything that might upset or worry them.

 

Really, it was pretty much always my mom I spoke with. My dad wasn’t much of a phone talker. But he’s been gone for 13 years, and my mom lives alone now.

 

I hope my mom feels the same, but I really enjoy the new relationship we have.

 

Some days we struggle to find much to talk about. Other days we go on for nearly an hour, and if Murray asks what we talked about, I have a hard time remembering anything.

 

We discuss our physical complaints. Mom told me she read in a women’s health book that our bladder is the size of a walnut. Sounds about right.

 

We love talking about food, what we’re having for dinner, what we’ve cooked lately, eating restaurant food.

 

Recently, Mom had a doctor appointment to go to. Afterward, she sat in the car while my brother went into the store to get a few things. She told me about the people watching she enjoyed doing.

 

Of course, it’s always easy for me to talk about my kids, and Mom tells me about my brothers and other relatives.

 

Mom, Lila Mae, is an artist. She tells me she’s done some drawing, but most of her art is done through quilting, crocheting, embroidery, patterns she follows and ones she makes up.

 

I must have inherited that desire from her. I can’t come up with any of my own patterns, and I can’t do all she does, but I love to knit and crochet.

 

We love talking about things we’re working on, new patterns. It’s nice to be able to ask her questions about a crochet project I’m working on.

 

We laugh. We’re sad. We gripe. Weather is an almost daily thing to complain about.

 

It’s all such a joy to me. I could feel sad that I let so many years go by without enjoying this wonderful person in my life, but what good would that do? I just thank God for the gift he’s given me to share with my mom every day now.