Mundane Doesn't Describe It

For the slackatudinally challenged.

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Location: United States

I have never taken any exercise except sleeping and resting. Mark Twain, Hard work doesn't harm anyone, but I do not want to take any chances. - Unknown, I am retired and have tried to do as little as possible - slowly. Me.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Road Trip. Part II

I started out on my day of errands and my Mom who is 80 years old wanted to go. That’s great because I like to get her out of the house. We went into my small town and did a few errands (dry cleaning, yes we do have one) and decided to take the old road to the city. The interstate came by my town a couple of decades ago and made what was an hour and ten minute drive into a thirty or thirty five minute drive. She hadn’t been the old way in a while and we started our journey.

Driving the two lane winding road, I can see it needs repair from the numerous log trucks that use it. My Mom would have me slow down occasionally to show me where so and so lived (sixty years ago), or to see how some of the old houses had gone down so badly. Then she would talk about how when she was young it was the only way to get to the city and about different adventures she and my Dad and she and her friends would have when they had gone there.

We get to the city and she pulls a fast one on me. She wants me to go into a cosmetic store and ask where the other store she likes has moved to. I don’t mind going into any store and picking up whatever she wants, but I explained to her that you don’t go into a store and ask where their competitor is located. We drive around for a little looking for the other store and she points to where it was. Her mind is clear and she knows exactly where it was located. I tell her not to worry, I’ll find out where it’s located and make another trip into the city.

We finally get back home and George acts like we’ve been gone for a month. Back and forth he’ll run between the couch and the chair. Spend a few seconds with me; spend a few seconds with Mom. This goes on for about 10 minutes every time I leave for more than an hour.

I usually look at these trips to the city as a pain, but when my Mom goes it more than a history lesson. I listen to her stories of the past and can see what building a dear friend or relative lived in long ago. I hear her stories of youth told with loving remembrance and a little sadness. I love for her to reminisce, and I love to listen.

So today’s trip wasn’t a pain. It was a journey for an old woman who saw glimpses of youth, and her son who saw those glimpses through her eyes.

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