There Was That Time

There was that time when I desperately wanted the attention of my two older brothers, so I deliberately annoyed them until they chased me through the house with bad intentions.  I knew you were in the kitchen.  You always seemed to be in the kitchen.  So I ran and hid behind you.  You shielded me from a certain beatdown and scolded them for not being sweet to their little brother.  This was a scene that repeated itself daily. 

There was the time my big brothers grew up and left home and I had to go to bed all by myself in the cavernous upper floor of our old house.  I would shudder under the covers as the raw winter wind whistled through the window sills and the walls creaked and groaned like a crying ghost.  I was convinced there were all manner of monsters up there ready to pounce on me.  So I would take my pillow and sneak down the stairs into your bedroom and lay down on the soft rug at the foot of your bed.  Dad would be snoring so loudly he never even heard me come in.  But I knew that you knew I was there.  You never said anything because we both knew if Dad woke up, he would send me back to the tower of terror. 

There was the time you spent all day at my bedside when I was in the hospital for a hernia operation.  In those days they didn’t allow parents to stay with their children overnight.  When the nurse said it was time for you to leave I threw a fit, terrified of spending the night in a strange place with no family around.  I remember you pleading with her to allow you to stay, and finally she relented. 

There were the times I tagged along with you as you walked to your mother’s house a few doors down to bring her mail in to her, as you did every day.  Grandma loved to bake and she always had a big slice of whatever sweet, delicious treat she had whipped up ready for me.  Until the time we arrived to find her lying on the floor, dead of a heart attack.  It was the first time, maybe the only time, I ever saw you cry. 

There were the times I was bored and you entertained me by luring me into a game of Scrabble.  You would regularly beat me like a rented mule because you had such a sharp mind, and because you had the Scrabble dictionary memorized.  To this day I still don’t think “dweezle” is a real word.  Especially when you built it in to a triple word score. 

There was the time you forbade me from going out for football.  You thought I was too small and the bigger guys would crush me.  It broke my heart because the football players were the most popular kids in my high school, not to mention they dated all the prettiest girls.  Today I have countless friends who walk with permanent limp, or can’t raise their arms above their shoulders, or have recurring headaches, and attribute all of it to their football days. 

There was the time when I stunned you and Dad by announcing that I wanted to drop out of college after two years, both of which you paid for, and instead attend a radio/tv/film school you had never heard of, which I also asked you to pay for.  Dad was dead against it, and you had your doubts, but you recognized it was my dream and you talked Dad into allowing me to chase it. 

There was the time in 1983 when I told you that Sharon and I were moving far away to Alabama.  After Dad passed away you bravely navigated some of the hugest and busiest airports in the country alone and flew to visit us and spend time with your grandchildren.  I brought you to church and introduced you to my Sunday School class.  Of course, they all fell in love with you and asked about you for many years. 

There was the time when you turned one hundred years old and the family threw you a big birthday party.  You had always played the ukelele and everybody wanted to hear you play again.  You strummed one song, I believe it was “Toot toot tootsie”, and then you handed the uke to me, because you were always uncomfortable being the center of attention. 

Then there was the time you turned one hundred and three, and you wondered why God had not called you home.  Nine months later He did. 

There were those times and so many more.  Just wanted to say thanks, Mom, and happy Mother’s Day.  Say hi to Dad for me.