By Lorry Myers
Her foot caught, then she fell, and then she pouted when my brother told me all about it. This is not the first time she has taken a tumble and had an excuse for why it happened. So far, my mother has been lucky to get back up without a broken bone.
Next time she might not be so lucky.
In a voice that showed how serious this was I told my mother that it was time. The next time she fell could be a life changing event. The next
time she fell she could break a bone or crack her head or be unable to get up on her own. It is time that she gave in and did what I want.
I want her to start walking with a walker.
I bought her a cane the first time she fell and had the very same talk with her that we were having now. My brother also bought her a cane at a garage sale that had jewels all over the handle. My sister got her one with feet on the bottom so it stood up by itself.
Mom wasn’t having any of them.
I don’t like fussing at my mother. This woman was married in her teens, had six babies in her twenties, raised them in her thirties became a grandmother in her forties, retired in her fifties and lived with the same man all those days in between. In retirement, my parents kept a house at the Lake and traveled to places they always wanted to go. But now, my father is gone and the Lake house is sold and Mom’s legs are not what they used to be.
For the complete issue, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.