Rocks and Salt
Early Saturday afternoon, before visiting Flo, we drove Peter and Emma to La Cantina for PeterÃs birthday, and made sure he ordered a margarita with rocks and salt. Before Paula brought them to our table, I ran to my truck for my camera. When I returned, Emma made a not-another-photo face and I felt a need to explain myself. ìAuntie Sue loves this place and her favorite drink is a margarita with rocks and salt. ì
Chris will appreciate this: After Peter finished his margarita he said, ìThat was good, now if only I could have four or five more.î
Emma eating a cheese quesadilla.
Helen. ìDr. Bieker told me, again, itÃs time to move closer to my children.î
Me. ìRemember what happened to Lillian?î
Lillian, my motherÃs mirror spirit, lost her husband of forever, and lived alone for years before moving from Evansville to be near her daughter in Florida. I remember sitting in LillianÃs kitchen, with my father, and as she passed arrowheads across the table to me to give to Matthew, she said, ìI never had a thought about my mortality until I turned ninety.î Lillian smiled as she talked about her now tenuous future. She always smiled, even while she was helping her husband feed himself.
ìShe lived about a year.î
ìIÃm afraid the same might happen to you. Helen and Malcolm moved to Gaithersburg to be near their daughter. May they rest in peace.î
ìThat is what I am afraid of. That the move will kill your father. î
But with all this new drama going on with Mike’s mother, the question is, how many margaritas did the Miller-Cannings down……….? But such restraint, Peter — the coast was clear; Mike was driving….. Why are they pink, though, BTW?
And who’s trying to convince whom of what in this parental relocation dance? Goes both ways, methinks.
Speaking of alcoholic seconds, I survived another Dorothea birthday in CT, from which a story may bloom. No Margaritas, but a more disciplined focus on grape derivatives, with only one or two risky detours. No ill effects.
Comment by adam — March 21, 2005 @ 7:57 am
Please, someone, quick: educate Emma that that is no quesadilla, anymore than any of the food at Cantina is Mexican. Take her, next time, to Taqueria Mexico in Waltham for the genuine article. Thank goodness it’s hard to destroy a Margarita…or there’d be no redeeming value in that eatery.
Comment by smiling — March 26, 2005 @ 11:03 am