Allow me to set the scene so to speak…. I drive a Honda Pilot. (mom-mobile) It seats eight. OR you can pack for eight. You cannot do both. In the Honda Pilot on an 800 mile (round) road trip we had; my mom, my sister, my brother, my niece, my daughter, my son and me. I’m the driver. Oh the joy!
Things that should be shared:
“Oh, sorry Mom. I think I’ve been sitting on your hand for the last hour.” my sister two thirds of the way home. “I know.” mom‘s stoic response.
“Ooo0o0ooooh Deeeeew” my brother as I accelerated into a turn between a semi and a string of caution cones. He said it like we were all about to die and he felt bad I would be responsible.
“Why can’t you drive like this all the time!? Why NOW in the construction zone where fines are doubled and there are orange cones everywhere!?” my brother 30 miles into a construction zone when I was doing ninety toward the nearest rest area, while the toddler moaned “MOMMY I NEEEEEED YOUUUUU!“ at me from his car seat.
“Is he okay???” Small girl child to her mother after she observed me sitting in the grass smoking a cigarette about ten paces from my toddler screaming and punching a tree in time out.
I probably don’t have to set a funeral scene for you. Things you don’t always get to say/hear at a funeral:
“What an amazing red casket” me to daughter.
“NOooooo!” Cousin Jack over the top of the minister as he was grabbing toddler just before he ran into burial hole.
“Get her sleeping out of that box!” my toddler to me regarding Grandma Great.
“What a load of crap.” me to my brother during the religious parts of the ceremony. Actually. You can always say that.
"Burn me. Just burn me." Mom to me standing in cemetary smoking over her mother's grave.
Such is living and dying.
May 21, 2009
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