Mothers' Day Ruminations

I’m sitting here in Kings Mountain, spending Mother’s Day with Mama. I’m in an odd mood, but couldn’t tell you why. Not bad or anything. I don’t know. I guess I’m always a little disappointed when I show up on a day like today with a few cards and a home-made present, when I feel like I could give my mother a new house every year and still never repay her for what she’s done for me in my life.
It’s also Mama’s birthday. Yup. Double whammy. How do you make it worth your mother’s while when her birthday falls on Mother’s Day?
Well, I did score one major hit. My mother was one of eleven children. Oddly enough, there was never a picture of all eleven kids together. They were so spread out that some of them were already married with families while the younger ones were still kids. Well, for Mama’s birthday I took a bunch of old photographs and stitched together a new picture with Photoshop that shows all eleven kids together, like they were posing for a photograph. Luckily, I had pictures of them all around the right age. It turned out much better than I had any right to expect. Mama’s been absolutely thrilled by the picture.
Besides the picture I made, Victoria sent her a cute little bear. But for Mother’s Day we had to give her some cards. Luckily she loves cards. But I still feel like I didn’t step up to the plate. Of course, I feel that way every year, even when I’ve been able to shower her with gifts.
I suppose more than anything I’m worried about Mama. This is her 75th birthday. Her sister, Sherry, is in the hospital. Her friend, Libby, is dying. And Mama’s been left to pick up the pieces for everybody. She has to go out to the hospital every day. She has to give Libby baths. She has to wash both Libby’s and Sherry’s clothes. She has to walk Libby’s and Sherry’s dogs. I wonder how long Mama can stand up to that kind of routine. She’s 75 years old, for Christ’s sake.
My cousin, Sherry’s son, is driving her crazy, too. He’s a shit-talker who’d rather spend all day trying to bullshit his way into $20 than to just go and work. Well, Sherry has sort of left Mama in charge of her money at the moment. So guess who gets to deal with Sherry’s son always begging for money? Mama also has been left with Sherry’s pain medication, which the son in question has been swiping from Mama and selling.
I have a bunch of other rants I could get into, but I’ll just let it lie. There’s no point in bitching about things when I’m leaving in the morning. I just hope that at some point Mama might get tired of her workload here and will consider moving down to Florida. Victoria’s already made it clear that she’d love to have Mama in Saint Petersburg.
Well, I need to go take a shower. I need to go out to the hospital to visit Sherry for a bit. I’m going to circle by the house later to pay my respects. Then I guess I’ll settle back in here and stare at something horrible on the television with Mama (she already has it on the Hallmark channel – kill me now). Or maybe I can talk Victoria into smiting some evil-doers in World of Warcraft.
All I really know is that as much as I love my mother, right now I feel like I’m a long, long way from home.

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