MOM AND ME AND A SUMMER RAIN

MOM AND ME AND A SUMMER RAIN

an afternoon delight

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For many years, a group of women I knew made time for a monthly luncheon. Each month, we’d take turns finding a place to eat.

One of our biggest chores regarding these luncheons was to do our best to not visit the same eatery twice within a six-month time span. We had more fun trying new places rather than the same-old-same-old.

After hurricane Charley blew through our city in 2004 and knocked down most of our buildings, that left us with even fewer places to eat. Some places had begun the task of rebuilding, while others were torn down completely, never to reopen.

Yet, we managed to find a small number of places to accommodate us only now, with repeat visits.

In 2012, after a fall that convinced my ninety-year-old mother (finally) that she could no longer live alone, my husband and I decided that she should move in with us. That meant we’d need to clean out her house, ship to Florida what she needed and wanted to take, donate, or toss the rest, depending on the age and condition of each item, then sell her house. Thank God for my son and his wife. They volunteered to take on the major part of that ordeal. They held many yard sales with the proceeds being divided between my mom and them. Mom wanted them to have it all for their trouble, but they wouldn’t hear of it. Anyway ..

With mom’s foot still in a cast, yes, she broke her foot, and six staples in the back of her head from crashing into the newel post at the bottom of her staircase, we boarded the plane to Florida.

It took mom many weeks to recover but while she decided at that time, walking was not in her best interests, she adjusted very well to Florida living. Mom’s legs also weren’t as strong as they’d been, and the doctor suggested a wheelchair. Mom agreed, not eagerly, but nonetheless, saw the logic of his comment.

During her first few months, one by one, she met my friends and a beautiful relationship between them grew. Soon, mom was joining us at our monthly lunches. I think for the first time in quite a long while, mom was enjoying herself.

It wasn’t unusual for any of the women to say, “Mary, please tell us about ..” and they’d pick something from mom’s past. Whether or not they knew what she’d talk about didn’t matter. Their goal was to include her and make her feel like one of us. They succeeded immeasurably.

One day, in the spring of 2014, our friend, Gloria sent out the monthly Ladies’ Lunch Bunch email. There was a new restaurant in town. She and her husband decided to do a trial run and Gloria said the food was great, the prices reasonable, and the menu very diverse. Sounded great to us.

Oh, my goodness! What a fantastic lunch! Gloria made the perfect choice. She also made sure to tell the manager of our plans and ask if she could accommodate twelve women, one in a wheelchair. “Not a problem,” she said, asking the approximate time of our arrival.

Exactly at eleven-thirty the next day, eleven ladies walked into the Chow House. I say walked because I was pushing mom’s wheelchair. (Had to toss in some of mom’s humor. She’d be the first to point out that we “walked”, and she was “pushed.”

There was one day, only a few weeks earlier when she said, “If I only had one of those mobile wheelchairs! You wouldn’t need to push me around.” “Mom,” I reminded her, “You never drove a car, you’re a good, what? Ninety percent blinded with macular degeneration, and you want to steer a wheelchair?” “No, silly. I just thought it would have been nice. I’d crash into the nearest wall for sure. I just feel bad that you always have to push me.” I assured her I didn’t mind at all, especially since we were always going in the same direction, but then I saw her smile. She was teasing me, again!

That was mom. You never knew if she was serious or joking.

Anyway, that one summer Wednesday, our lunch was interesting and fun. Mom told her tales of her younger days in America (mom was born in England and arrived on American soil with her parents when she was four years old). She retold the stories of her first few days in school and how she tripped over a moving jump rope, fell, and broke her nose. (Ah! NOW you know where I get my klutziness from!)

As lunch was ending, we paid our bill and stood to leave – just in time to see the rain begin to fall. It was more like a torrential downpour.

A few women said their goodbyes and ran for their cars. I waited. Five of my friends also waited. They were not about to leave mom (and me) alone. They never wanted her to feel abandoned; so, they stayed, until mom said, Can we please go walk in the rain?”

“Uh, mom, it’s not just raining. It’s a torrent out there!”

Mom said, “Oh, honey, I haven’t walked in the rain in ages. Please?”

My friends looked at me as I asked mom, “Mom, are you sure? You’ll get soaked!”

She smiled her widest as if in anticipation. “Oh, sweetie, I won’t melt. After all, it’s only water!”

The restaurant manager handed us several plastic bags to put over the seats of our cars and then …. we opened the door to the watery downpour.

And outside, as we walked, and I pushed, mom outstretched her hands and laughed so hard, tears were streaming down her cheeks (or was it rain?). Who knows?

All that mattered was that day when it felt like the world slipped away and there was only mom, me, and the summer rain.