baggage's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dial Tones Don't Care If You're Not Eating Well Mom is still sick. She's losing weight dramatically, has little appetite and isn't taking up nearly as much time on the telephone as she used to.
And, everyday I grow increasingly worried that this particular period of sickness is a little more serious than previous thought. Mom is a talker. She'll gab with her children about everything-sick or not. Do you drink cranberry juice daily? Are you moving your bowels regularly? Are you getting enough sleep?-all the standard mom questions-expected and embarrassing all at once. But this weekend, I called to update her on a recent e-mail from a relative. She listened quietly, had me repeat crucial sentences, and quickly ended the conversation-minus the embarrassing inquiries into my bathroom habits or Girl-Unit's cooking skills. Last Sunday, there was just a quiet, apologetic yet matter-of-fact *I'm a little tired* followed by the click of the receiver. And it's odd when I recall how much her GTE-sponsored spotlight into my life has infuriated over the years-how I've hung up the phone after past conversations so annoyed by her interrogation that the silly anger would stick with me for hours after the fact. And now, well, she's too sick, too tired, to ask those very same questions that all great moms ask their children. And I find myself listening to a dial tone-looking into straight into a void and missing everything that used to annoy. 2:25 p.m. - 2001-06-25 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||
|
||||||