A Snaphot (or 4) in Time

My mom, at almost 93, doesn't need anything.  Except consumables like Puffs and watermelon-flavored gum.

For Mother's Day, she wanted a day out shopping.  Can you imagine a 93-year old hitting the mall?  She wanted some lightweight sweaters.  And a suit.

"A suit?" I asked her.  "When do you wear a suit?"

"I never know when I'm going to go someplace nice," she replied.  Olive Garden and church are the fanciest places Mom visits these days.   Maybe she was longing for an invitation to a corporate board meeting.  Or the theater.  To which I don't think I'd wear a suit.  But, I'm not Mom.

"It's always nice to have a suit," she stressed.

So, off we went to the mall.  She scooted around Dillards on her walker, slowly fingering her way through the sales racks.  I occasionally lost sight of her because she's a stooped over five-three high, tiny little thing.  When she leaned over to inspect a garment, she briefly disappeared.

She tried on several cotton button-downs, which she favors, and some sweaters, which weren't long enough and didn't have pockets.  After an hour, she decided there was nothing she really wanted at Dillards, and we meandered back to the car to head to Macy's.

At Macy's she found two perfect sweaters, a long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of cotton Capri's.  She was pooped, but happy.  The suit was forgotten.  

We lunched at TooJays, which has yummy food and even better desserts.  Mom got split pea soup, and I ordered a salad.  She can't talk when she eats, because she has choking issues, so it was quiet while we ate.  I watched her sip her green tea and nibble on her crackers and thought about the fact that this might be the last time we have a girlie afternoon together.  At 93...you're on borrowed time.

On the way out of the restaurant, I spotted one of those photo booths where you get four little pictures for a quarter.  Only now it's four 2x3s and 16 tiny copies of the 2x3s for five bucks.  I suggested to Mom we hop in the booth and get some snapshots to commemorate the day.

She laughed and shook her head, this crazy daughter, but indulged me.  I helped her into the booth, then secured and hid her purse on her walker, which had to sit outside the booth.  She was nervous about having her purse two feet away.

The photo booth was more confusing than they use to be.  I had to choose a theme, a style, a color, type in my Zodiac sign, my nickname, and other hoo-ha.  I punched buttons until the automated voice started the countdown.  It was clearly off our pose because the first picture looked like this.

I then suggested to Mom we look silly.  This is her silly face.

It's very similar to her regular face.

I don't know what the heck I'm looking at.

I got the giggles while Mom held her pose.

She is one steady cookie.  And she clearly found the camera before I did. 

I laugh every time I look at these pictures.  The photo booth keyboard was as complicated as a jet liner panel.  I didn't know what we'd end up with, but I wanted whatever came out.

With a smile, Mom looked over the pictures and then said, "Is my purse still out there?"

Angelina's Choice

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Plastic Tray Do-Overs

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Containing Myself

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Life at Both Ends

It's been over a week since I visited the dugout here at the Ballpark.  I wanted to check in all week, but life just kept happening.  During the past month, I've experienced opposite poles on the emotion spectrum.

Two weeks ago, I thought my dad was passing from this life.  As I sat with him, tears dripping, I tried to envision what was he was seeing.  I prayed it was wispy angels, a soothing lullaby, Jesus whispering, "Welcome home."

To my surprise, Dad rallied and by the next morning, he was looking brighter.  Yesterday, he celebrated his 90th birthday, and is currently in rehab.

He likes to surprise us, my dad.  I have never known another soul with such enthusiasm for life.  The Superman shirt was a gift to Dad from my brother, the ex-clown.  No matter how debilitated Dad becomes, in his heart, he can still fly.   

A few days after that grief-filled night, a fresh baby arrived at the Ballpark.  Her parents were in town for the 90th birthday bash.  A great-grandfather and his great-grandchild - 90 years apart.  To see the wrinkled, Parkinsonian hand reach for tiny, chubby toes....so beautiful.   

There is nothing more popular than a fresh-from-heaven baby. 

Holding this child was a balm to my weary heart.  She was as warm as fresh bread from the oven.  I loved curling her fingers around mine and sniffing her soft little head.  She was so new and untarnished by life.  So willing to just be held and smooched on.  It's refreshing and soothing and healing to hold new life.

The company has returned home now, and my focus is back on my super hero dad, who has chronic health issues, but is currently stable.

Author T.D. Jakes said that life is the great equalizer.  We all start out with supple skin, toothless grins, and great potential.   We grow to be strong, independent, and productive (hopefully.)  Eventually, we become weathered and disabled and forgetful.  Unless we die young, we will progress though every phase.  It's the human journey.

I will probably never again see two lives, 90 years apart, in the same room.  Hug them both, kiss them both, pray over them and with them.  It was wonderful to be standing in the middle and savor the experience.

We took hundreds of pictures, so we will never forget.

Both subjects are a bit blurry because they never stop moving.