I Love My Mother-
“What Will the Neighbours Think?”
At eighty-six years old, Mum is readied with her handbag, a fresh coat of ‘stay put’ lipstick, tissue stuffed pockets, and her walking aid. All set for a grand day out, but she has her trousers on backward; “I thought they felt funny!” We chuckle, with childbearing hips and tightly crossed legs, as she dashes back in to adjust them.
Strolling for the early bus, the only ride of the day, we chat. “I’m looking for a new dress. I’ve had the same outfit for ten years. The neighbours will think I’ve nothing else to wear!” Mum declares.
“People don’t remember what you wear,” I console her. “Do you recall what your neighbours wore yesterday… or last week?”
“No, not really,” she relinquishes, like a mouse scratching around an empty cage in search of a single sunflower seed. Disappointed, she finds no excuse to buy another dress, for she, and I both know, she hoards a multitude of unworn suits back in her closets.
“Then they won’t remember your old frock either. The fact is, without meaning to, I extinguish her flame with the practicality of taking my water hose to your burning house.
“The only garb you would recollect anyone wearing would be their birthday suit,” I now rally. “Just imagine, you’d knock ’em dead.”
“I should think I’d do…
