My Mother's Last Days - July 20, 2015

My mom got mad at me once, sort of. Other than this one contrived instance, I don't remember my mom ever getting mad at me. I'm sure she got frustrated, especially when we were little, doing naughty things like painting the fireplace with peanut butter and chocolate powder. But there was never true anger. I love that so much - that I have gone through 55 years of life knowing my mother never showed anger towards me.

So the one instance happened in about 1977. My friend Lisa Robertson and I were inseparable. And we were boy crazy. In the summer we slept over at her house or mine, nearly every night. We decided to sleep at my house one night for reasons of proximity. We usually slept in the yard somewhere; it was too hot to sleep in the house. The night we chose was a watering night meaning my parents had their watering turn where water came down the ditch and they got to dam it off to flood the lawns and garden. We decided to sleep on the front porch, something we'd never done. And we had a plan to meet some boys. Lisa was interested in Tracy and I like Kelly. They were "older men" - friends who lived east a few blocks, hence our choice for my house. We fluffed up our sleeping bags to look like we were in them and took off, walking to Tracy's. We found them on Tracy's front lawn waiting and sat down to talk. Really, we were only talking. I don't think we were there very long when my mother pulled up in my dad's truck, rolled down the window and very slowly said, "Get ... In ... This ... Truck." We were mortified, jumped to our feet and got in the truck. I'm sure we were apologizing all the way back to our house. I don't remember where or if we slept. Lisa was so worried my mom would tell her parents and they'd kill her.

The next day my mom was making apricot jam. She had two beholden slaves. We peeled and pitted apricots for hours, Lisa whispering, "she's not going to tell my parents, is she?" My mother acted angry. She was silent which was not her usual self. She was usually vibrant, happy, chatty, laughing. But she was getting mileage out of these two wayward teens who she saved from, I'm sure, utter destruction.

She told me, maybe years later, that she wasn't angry but had to appear angry in the situation. It also didn't hurt to keep it going the next day because she got so much work out of us.

I am grateful my mom never truly found a reason to get angry at me. I did do some stupid things as a child and even more as a teen but she always showed patience and calmness toward me, even in trying situations. She talked things out rather than blowing up. I'm sure she prayed for guidance at times. We became best friends early on in my life. Best friends don't hurt each other. It's not even a matter not trying to hurt someone; when you love deeply it comes easily to treat someone well. She loves deeply. I love her deeply and always will.