I don’t understand my mother’s connection to Susan. I never have. It’s the face-time thing. They haven’t had that much. Or have I forgotten?<\/p>\n
“I never laughed so hard as I did when Susan told me about her trip to Ireland. With Diane, I believe.” Pause “So smart.”<\/p>\n
Since Jimmy died I haven’t talked to Helen without her asking, “How is Susan?” I never really know how to answer that, but I do my best. Helen called me somewhere between deer carcasses in Ohio and before she asked me how I was, she said, “How is Susan?’ The dimmer switch in my head finally turned and I replied, “You should call her.”<\/p>\n
When I arrived in Evansville the next day, my mother asked for Susan’s number. She called, and from the other room, I heard her talking. Her voice continued long past what an answering machine would hold.<\/p>\n
Today, we sat down for lunch and as I did during my last visit, I read stories. Not those gut-grabbers Chris sent for my last visit, but two from the blog. We began with Chris’s “A Day in the Life,” and as usual I had to pause every three words or so while The Active Mind responded to the chimney saga.<\/p>\n
After I finished I ask,<\/p>\n
“You read Susan’s story, right?’<\/p>\n
“Susan’s story?”<\/p>\n
“About Jimmy and the car?”<\/p>\n
“I haven’t. You should go get it now.” Meaning, jump up from the table and print it out.<\/p>\n
I returned and began, “On important things, Jim and Susan were almost always on the same page and……”<\/p>\n
My mother waited. <\/p>\n
I breathed deeply and plunged in again.<\/p>\n
“Okay, we’re going to start again. ‘On important things.’ “……<\/p>\n
I couldn’t continue. I thought, finally tears, but why now, why not alone in my truck?<\/p>\n
Helen verbally held my hand from across the table, “Oh, I know. I can barely think about it too. You don’t have to read it.”<\/p>\n
“Maybe you should read. It’s really easy if you don’t read it aloud.” I hand her the printed pages but I see she doesn’t have her glasses on. ” Can you read it?”<\/p>\n
“With this large print, I should say so.”<\/p>\n
Helen holds the pages in her left hand, nearly closes her right eye and begins reading. After the first few paragraphs, she stops and asks, “What’s FB?”<\/p>\n
“That’s FierceBaby.”<\/p>\n
“Oh yeah, Susan’s baby picture, the one that reminds me of my Aunt Lydia. She told me to get iron up my back after I miscarried and she thought I was being too dramatic. And who is SB?”<\/p>\n
“SB? Let me see the page. You mean SD, as in shinydome.”<\/p>\n
I was glad she stumbled because I wanted another shot at reading the story. With iron up my back, I continued where she left off and together we laughed at the gun rack, the ribbon and especially, “You’ve passed rational.”<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I don’t understand my mother’s connection to Susan. I never have. It’s the face-time thing. They haven’t had that much. Or have I forgotten? “I never laughed so hard as I did when Susan told me about her trip to … Continue reading