"Your dad left Madeline and Julia a message about thanking me for showing up," my mom stage whispered. We were at Kirkwood High School for the final band concert of the year. My freshman Julia plays the French horn.
"What?" I whispered back. "What are you talking about? They always thank you."
"When prompted," sighed my mom as she smacked her strawberry gum.
After the show, I made a beeline for Julia.
"Make sure you thank Gramz for showing up tonight," I instructed her.
"I always thank her," Julia said, somewhat quizzically.
"Thank her effusively," I suggested, then we made our way through the shifting crowd of parents, grandparents and students. "There she is."
My mom was waiting on a bench, leaning on her cane and dangling her camera from her wrist. She looked so tired and uncomfortable, but she brightened immediately when she saw my tall, slender, redheaded wonder of a daughter Julia. She looked so adorable in her red skinny jeans, black Tokidoki tee and high-heeled shoes with laces.
"Take her picture!" my mom commanded. Julia sat next to my mom and they both smiled broadly. I took one, then another.
"Do you need help getting to your car?" I asked as she hoisted herself up. She's gained so much weight. I sucked in my own stomach, acutely aware of the pounds I've put on.
"I guess you could just watch and make sure I get out," my mom replied offhandedly. So of course we walked her straight to her car. It was parked illegally on the side of the building. No ticket though. Good job, mom.
"Thanks for coming!" Julia smiled warmly.
"You're so beautiful and smart. Give me a hug!" gushed my mom. We both hugged her, made sure she made it into her vehicle and waved goodbye.
As soon as we got home, I listened to the message my father had left earlier on our answering machine.
"Uh, hello. This is Tom Reardon. When your mother...your grandmother goes to your show this evening, make sure you thank her. You usually don't bother for more than a minute because you have much more important things to do. She's 71 years old and can barely get around. It doesn't show common courtesy, informing her of a performance the day of the show, then expecting her presence. Have a good life, and I hope someone shows you more courtesy in the future. Goodbye."
I wanted to call and tell them that the entire flipping calendar of events is available to one and all on the Kirkwood High School website. Instead, I pushed the erase button.
I can't wait till he comes over for Mother's Day brunch.
