the story that I love you, it has no end

Mom and I went down to the sing-a-long. It was a long walk to the other side of the building, but she seemed up for it.  We got there a bit late and the crowd of residents was already singing.

The woman who was playing the piano comes often to Stuvwxyz to play. She even brings her own lyric sheets to pass out to the audience. She is a hoot.

Mom is no longer singing, she doesn't hum along, she doesn't lip-sync or mumble along, she is not tapping her foot or bobbing her head. She makes no sound, motions, or movements that convey any participation.

I lean in with the lyric sheets and sing to Mom, hoping that she'll join in with me. I run my finger under the words, hoping she'll join in.  But we don't need these lyric sheets, we know these songs. These are the kind of songs that she taught to my Girl Scout troop, songs that we sang together around the campfire. 

"I gave my love a cherry, that has no stone..." 
Mom perks up and yells at me "How do YOU know this song?!" Yelling at me like I had stolen something from her.
I lean in and whisper to her "You taught this song to me, you taught it to me in Girl Scouts." She glares at me.


Have I told you how tired I am, of being yelled at?

The Riddle Song:
I gave my love a cherry
That had no stone,
I gave my love a chicken
That had no bone,
I told my love a story
That had no end,
I gave my love a baby
With no cryin'.

How can there be a cherry
That has no stone?
How can there be a chicken
That has no bone?
How can there be a story
That has no end?
How can there be a baby
With no cryin'?

A cherry when it's blooming
It has no stone,
A chicken when it's pippin'
It has no bone,
The story that I love you
It has no end,
A baby when it's sleeping
There's no cryin'.

a giggle with Mom

I am in shock. My Mother and I had a giggle together, it was amazing.

As I said last month, Mom has been in a questioning stage.  After she asks this or that question five or six times, I can finally understand what she is trying to say. But then I really don't know how to answer her.
"Were you angry that I was a teacher?"
What is she thinking that she needs to ask this question? What does she really need to know? What is bothering her?
"No, Mom. You really loved being a second grade teacher. You had lots of fun with your students. When you were at Xyz school, I was in school too, a different school."

So the question comes around again to the boyfriend. A man that Mom hung around with for a few years, after Dad passed.  He was nice, but I think he overstayed his welcome. I never had to tell Mom my feelings about their relationship because his cancer returned and he died quickly.  I think he used her, knowing that his cancer had returned, he latched onto her so that he wouldn't have to die alone.  Oh well, they had some good times together.  She can't recall his name when she talks about him now.  "I had a boyfriend" is all she can say.

So, this week she tells me, "I don't have a boyfriend."
"No, Mom, you don't."
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No, Mom, I don't have a boyfriend."
"Oh," she sighs "I don't have a boyfriend."
She looks at me, and says with incredulity and amazement
"We don't have boyfriends!"
"No we don't" I agree.
She starts to giggle "We don't have boyfriends."
And I start to giggle too "No we don't, oh well."
and we both giggle and laugh at our sorry plight.


(Yes, I do have a husband, Mom doesn't remember that today, but we were talking about boyfriends.)

short stories

And now for something completely different:

I enjoy listening to audio books, while I travel and work.  I have also found many pod-casts where short stories are read aloud.  Some of my favorite are the Gutenberg Project, Cast of Wonders, Pod Castle, and Escape Pod.  Some of these are predominately science fiction and fantasy literature.

My newest find is podcast is Toasted Cake.  This week Tina Connolly read the story After the Earthquake by Caroline M. Yoachim.  

 
It's a story about memories, bring a tissue.

(sorry you'll have to search for this one)