I
wonder if my mother is amazed that I manage in New York without her
interventions, reminders, and warnings about everyday living?
If we are walking, she cautions me to be careful of
the cracks and other sidewalk impediments.
When I take her car, she instructs me again to be
careful backing up out of the driveway.
She reminds me at least three times in an hour that
she’s cut up watermelon and it’s in the refrigerator if I’d like some.
If I bring up a subject that is remotely
controversial she holds up her hand, palm in— like a stop signal, and announces,
“I don’t want to hear about it.”
She improves my posture, as I can hear her
figuratively (if not literally) saying, “Put your shoulders back. Stand up straight.” Or sometimes, when others are around, she
will just mimic the motion and I know what she is saying.
She tells me of traffic I don’t care about and that
doesn’t involve me. It’s a subject that fascinates her, along with weather in places where we’re not.
As
I’m writing, I remember that I haven’t connected with Alexander today. I’ll send him a text before going to sleep.
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