Sometimes You Laugh

George and I made a quick trip to Louisville this week end. It's home. All of our family is there, but mostly I needed to see my mother. We talk frequently, but Mother is nearly deaf now and it is difficult to communicate much. Fortunately, she can still understand the words I love you that end each call.

It didn't take long to realize that Mother's hearing was even worse this trip. I had purchased a whiteboard last trip so I could write the words she didn't understand; however she misplaces a lot of things these days, and the board was no where to be found. We tried.
"Could I have some water?"
"Whose daughter?"
"No, WATER. Could I have a glass?"
"Last? You got here last night?"
"No, Mother. We came this morning."
"Mourning. So she died?"
"Who died?"
"The daughter."
"There's no daughter. No one died. I'm just thirsty."
"Thursday. I thought it was Saturday."

It's not funny, and yet it is. People say you have to laugh to keep from crying. I've probably even said it. The thing is . . . you still cry.

But there were precious moments even with the challenges of communicating.

Mother has never been one to embrace new things. She didn't purchase an automatic washer
until I was in college (1970). A computer was never an option. But, I had my iPad with me, and I thought she might enjoy seeing some of what it could do. I was surprised to see that she was fascinated by it. We played around with the camera and laughed at some of the funny pictures we took. I showed her some of my poems. She read them from start to finish and was amazed that I had written them.

That was Friday. We visited, we laughed, we ate lunch, and played with the iPad.

On Saturday, George and I stopped by for a final visit before heading out of town.

"What are you two doing in town?" she asked.
"I was here yesterday. Remember?"
"December? I thought . . .

Sometimes you have to laugh.