It’s been a while since we visited Mum, so as the weather was due to be overcast with some showers, we thought we’d pay a trip down south today.
I gave my sister a courtesy call and she asked us to take in some milk, so after an errand we had to run, we were actually on the road by 10 am.
After our horrendous trip last time, we decided on a different route, coming off the motorway a junction later than usual and following the main A350.
In all honesty, apart from a short potential bottleneck, it was less stressful and seemed to take less time, although it’s probably longer in distance.
The trip took us just over 3 hours, but that included 2 potty breaks, one of which was for a coffee and driver changeover.
We bought Mum some flowers, a bouquet of 10 yellow roses tinged with red, similar to this one. Although we gave them to her, she seemed at a loss as to what to do with them, so I put them in a vase and placed them on the dining table as there were some pink carnations already on the piano in the hall.
After a while, she asked who the flowers were for and who from.
She was very quiet today.
Her leg has healed and scabbed over nicely, but she wasn’t very talkative, probably because the television was on and she was sitting in an easy chair in the lounge rather than her chair by the window.
When asked, she said she hasn’t done any knitting, tapestry or reading for a while, and had watched a film the other day but couldn’t remember what it was called or what it was about.
She commented on my jumper, saying how lovely it was.
It was this one, a sparkly red sweater she knitted for me in the 80s, one I kept for Christmas as it reminded me of snowflakes and tinsel, making me feel like Mrs Santa Claus each time I wore it. I wear it practically all the time now, and with each washing, it stretches a little more, losing its shape and colour, but none of the love that went into knitting it or the memories from the first few years I had it.
Mum knew who we were today and hugs were forthcoming all round. She seems tinier, more frail and a shadow of the woman I remember growing up.
She says she thinks of me every day, how lovely it is to see us, and that she loves me.
I love you too Mum.
pensitivity101 
Sounds like you had a lovely visit, even though it was hard at times. I used to take my mom roses, too (well, of course, because my mom’s first name was Rosalie!). I’ll bet your mother enjoyed looking at the flowers.
I hope so. She was having one of what we call her ‘closed days’. We see it as her mind having an on/off switch which occasionally gets stuck, but in a way this protects her from anxiety when she can’t grasp or remember things.
It is hard when your parents become old and frail and forgetful, but sounds like a good visit. 🙂
I’m glad we went.