WORD PLAY

I always made it a point to take my blood pressure pills before I called my hearing-impaired, 92-year-old, I’m-living-alone-in-my-home-until-they-drag-me-out mother to see how she was faring.  At my emotional level of thinking, I felt it was a matter of life and death to take my pills before dialing.  Having downed the pills, I bravely made my call.   

After five minutes of convincing her I was her daughter, not the Telecare woman,  I began my housework, wrote a few letters, and made a scrumptious omelet breakfast while Mom rambled on about Betsy and her job--all of which I had heard before--and fed me other newsy gossip of the day.  (I learned that the Methodists were exorcising the cat neighbor's house with buckets of paint, etc.) Needless to say, I got a lot done during her monologue.

When I finally heard a brief pause quite awhile later, I offered my own special news of the day about my four-day trip to Albuquerque with a friend of mine to attend a conference.    Why couldn't we stay longer, she asked, so that I could visit my sister and brother-in-law who lived there?   I responded, "Mom, we're going for a conference." 

"A contest?" 

"No, a CONFERENCE." 

"What contest?" 

As my blood pressure began rising with my voice, I responded louder and slower, "A  C O N F E R E N C E." 

"Oh, a concert." 

"No, Mom. I'm going to a conference," I managed to say with my last gasp of sanity.  She finally got it.  My blood pressure went down.  After finally establishing the fact that it was not a vacation trip for me, and that the school district really did plan on my return within a reasonable time period, Mom & I parted company.

In the meantime, Gary overheard (who wouldn't when I'm shouting at the top of my voice?) our conversation.  When I hung up, he asked about the concert in Albuquerque.  I told him there was no concert, which I knew he knew.  If it wasn’t a concert, then he wanted to know what the contest was about.  I told him to shove it, and to leave me alone.  He continued, "I really wish I could go to your concert." 

SHUT UP, GARY!" 

It was quiet for all of two seconds before he got in the last word, "Well, at least Dea & Ken will hear you play." 

The pharmacist was my only friend that day.  She renewed my prescription immediately. 

(Beth Good - 2012)