Senior Moment

My mother, at 69, still wants to be in control of everything. She has her own way of making somebody believe, either through passing hint or strong, sharp criticism. Her hands may be shaky and legs aching, but her heart did not grow any older. She still handles arguments, confrontations the way she did some half a decade ago. I am pretty sure there are times that she still wants to spank me. And then there are grandchildren. Other days, she is doting, gentle loving grandmother. But in the extreme heat, she would curse them with words not even us, their parents, would use. She said she just want them to realize things and head in the right direction.

Let me preface this little story by telling you a bit about my childhood. My mother did most of the child-rearing since father left early. And through it all, she was always there. This also meant that not only did we associate with her serious, pointed views; but also got the early taste of life’s inanities. As a child, a lot of times I fell, scraped, bruised, bumped, scarred, and burnt, physically and metaphorically. At 6 years old, I was already contemplating about life. Seriously.

Now that we have come full circle, my turn has come to parent her, in a way. I keep her money, buy her medicines (with her money). She hates long walks, so I oblige myself to do some errands for her like buying the red blouse she wore to a wedding. Now that she can still walk without hobbling on cane, not still crooked or bent over, I could only pray to see her with profound peace, to laugh until her belly hurts, to see her take deep breaths, enjoys the sunset and takes pleasure of what is left of her remaining years.

“If wrinkles must be written upon our brows,
let them not be written upon the heart.
For the spirit should never grow old. “