10:07 p.m. | 2005-12-11 A Table For Two. I went to visit MyMother today. As I haven�t gone to her home for, well, at least a decade, I called her last week to ask for directions. Actually, I only asked for her address; she gave me directions. I grew up in really small towns. There are many things that are endemic to small towns one being excruciatingly detailed directions. If I�m headed towards a small town, I appreciate such detail. In my own town, not so much. But, I took note and was polite as I�m wont to do. I found her place easily. I made what she would consider a wrong turn � because I didn�t follow her directions � but she lives in a really big building. It�s easy to spot. Much as I did. However, I took the very first right and was distracted by a big huge private limousine parked outside a discount store. Heh. I think if I was really rich, I�d still go to TacoHell. (If I wasn�t watching my cholesterol and whatnot.) So, I wasn�t surprised to see a limousine there. However, the occupants seemed really uncomfortable by my presence. At a stop sign. As such, I moved on quite quickly. So, MyMother�s place. Did I mention that she lives in a Senior Building. She has for years. She has and does. She wiggled into a senior place before she was old enough to live there. That was somewhere else though. She�s old enough now. Great parking. I have to say that. Also, lots of handicapped parking which is where all the cars were parked. Huge building, empty parking lot. I love that part. MyMother met me as soon as I stepped out of the elevator. As we walked down the hall I noticed that several residents decorate their doorways. That�s not something that happens where I live but it�s cute. In a cute senior kind of way. MyMother�s no exception and is the kind of person who would start a doorway decorating campaign. She�d be on that board. Not surprisingly, as I mentioned, I was there to help her decorate her Christmas tree. Her apartment? Very cute. And, quite decorated. In an everyday kind of way. Every wall is covered with stuff. We visited for a while before she fed me lunch. She had asked about that. Asked me if I like things like chicken and lettuce and offered to feed me lunch when she invited me over. I said yes, of course. I wasn�t so sure what �chicken and lettuce� meant but okay. That�s what it meant. A little chicken and a little lettuce. I don�t object to either in any way. Just that, since childhood, I�ve always wanted a little more. Not different, not better� just a little more. She serves so little food, and always has, that it�s just not enough. A slice of chicken with a forkful of lettuce? Not enough. Seriously bland too. I�m not a big eater, but I had seconds. Plus, I kept salting and peppering my food in some vain attempt to make it less bland. And, I was still hungry. That much has not changed. That, in and of itself, took me back. Back to my childhood. MyMother always underfed us. Or rather, she fed us like she fed herself. She just never ate. Foraging for food was not an idle activity for us kids. We did it all the time. It�s interesting to me that she still does that. Not that she eats less, just that she offers her guests so little food. She�s great with the tea though. Ice tea. I love it. Much as I love it, I rarely make it. I think I drank a gallon today. MyMother was quick on the refills of that. More to the point, I guess, we dressed her Christmas trees. Yes, trees. In the plural. She had one for inside and one for the hallway. I learned a lot about MyMother during the decorating. She�s excruciatingly hard on herself. She criticized herself just about every time she placed an ornament and went on to lament the fact that half of the Christmas lights didn�t work. She brutalized herself. It�s hard to watch. Especially when we were merely decorating a tree. Really. How bad can it be? Maybe it�s just me but I�ve never heard anyone trash themselves for decorating a tree poorly. Maybe I just don�t get it. Except I do. I understand about perfectionism. But, it�s so silly to me. You just can�t decorate a tree in a wrong fashion. Really. You just can�t. Overall, it was a good visit with MyMother. I learned some health history, which is great, and I learned some other history. MyMother has taken to writing. Well, I mean, she�s always written stuff. Letters, diary whatever since she was a wee child. But she�s taking a class now. About writing. She shared some of her writing with me. It�s about her history. At least to her. To me? I think she has a lot of writing talent. What she shared with me? Not her history at all. She�s got a lot more to say. There�s so much that is unsaid. The nuances are lost. She�s only written a story, not her story. She just isn�t present in it. Interestingly, I�m in the story. Not in a kind way either. That�s fair. I�ve not been a kind daughter. It�s unfortunate because I never meant to be that way. Maybe our experience today will change that story. Maybe it won�t. But more power to MyMother. She�s got a story to tell just the same as I do. your thoughts? seed flower