On Tuesday, during my extremely long one hour visit with Mom, she told me three times that she had arranged to have her local paper delivered to her, that it comes everyday to her mailbox, and how nice it was to keep up with the news back home.
On Wednesday her girlfriend called to let me know about their visit together.
She passed along a list of things that Mom said she really needed: the new winter coat she bought last fall and never wore, more cat food, and more of her history books.
This friend also said Mom was adamant that she wanted to get the newspaper. I burst out laughing. Mom's friend was confused.
"I guess you didn't see the pile of newspapers on her table then?" I laughed. "She won't let me throw out any of the old ones."
This girlfriend also asked Mom if she had seen me recently.
"No, she hasn't been here in a while, we're not on good speaking terms anymore."
That's right Mom, we're not on good speaking terms: you yell and I listen. You nag, grouch, and complain and I listen.