June 25th. I unconsciously dialed mom’s phone number tonight, six months after we’ve disconnected her line. Drenched by end-of-day fatigue, I let my fingers hijack the touch-tone and punch 226-5946.

[caption id="attachment_277" align="alignleft" width="184"] dad&mom stylin’ – pre babies[/caption]

Even though it’s been half a year, I haven’t memorized the new number yet. I’m being stubborn cuz it’s not really her phone. I’ve got to go through an interloper (care giver or nurse) and then wait, as they go find her in the Residence and bring her back to the phone. It also feels more like a chore, since mom sometimes doesn’t remember which end is for speaking and which for listening, hangs up, and I’ve got to call back. By then, she’s usually wandered off and they have to go find her again.

Recently mom told me to “be a darling” for her, and I’m trying. Made a trip to Myers & Keswick, for British Taveners Proper Sweets for her. Sent flowers and licorice on Mother’s Day, sent some simple cartoons for her to color with crayons, spent a little extra so she can have her hair cut and styled once a month. Am shopping on line for new shoes for her – a cross between slippers and loafers. Among things she can no longer do: tie shoes, sign her name, remember a string of numbers.

I think it would be fun to take her to a big secondhand store and let her pick out any 5 outfits she wants to buy. Any size. Any season. She has always loved to go through the racks, and she had an interesting sense of fashion.

I want to watch her do something she used to do.

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