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| Mother's recipe |
It was this time of year in 1990. My mother was ill and alone in her house some 40 miles away. The days were slipping by, and she was not eating. I was worried, but I also had three children (12, 10, and 8) and a job. Sister Harriet checked on Mother daily, and I trusted that this was enough.
And then Harriet called me. “I’m leaving for Arizona,” she said. “I want you to come and get Mother.” This was the first and only time that Harriet ever demanded something of me, and I knew I had to obey.
And so, I brought Mother to my house, and she immediately benefited by regular meals and socialization with my family. I was proud of my scrappy children who closed doors silently and avoided arguing. And Mother admitted that she loved watching the birds play in the pine trees outside the living room window and looked forward to the activities of the household.
Her appetite gradually improved, and one day she announced that she was hungry for a lemon chiffon pie. It required a pre-baked pie shell, and I wasn’t sure I could do that decently. I could just see the crust crumpled into itself on the bottom of the pie plate.
“I’ll make it,” Mother said, and off we went to the kitchen, she in her nightgown, robe, and slippers, to make a pie. And while she was in the process, Harriet called from Arizona. “How’s Mother?” she asked, in a tone of concern.
“She’s making a lemon chiffon pie,” I said.
“She’s
making a pie!” Harriet exclaimed into the phone, clearly not expecting to hear that
Mother was so much better.
The pie turned out just fine. Mother had not lost her touch. KW
4 comments:
This made me smile. As I can just picture and hear both of them.
Thanks, Becky. Harriet went on to say that they were with someone who wanted to visit an aunt and discovered she had just died. So, he decided to call another relative to advise her of this and discovered she had died two months prior. So, it was Harriet's turn to call, and she was afraid of what she was going to hear.
I don't remember this visit, but I would imagine Grandma stayed in my room. I also can't imagine the avoidance of arguing--are you sure we were all there?
Eating is social and when you're all alone and don't have much appetite anyway, it's probably hard to be motivated to make proper meals.
No, Grandma stayed in the little office-like room. No one was displaced. I'm comforted that you don't remember, Hallie, because that means it wasn't traumatic for you.
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