Thanksgivings

When I came around the bend of the hallway, after the long walk to get there, they are long halls at the Paramount of Somers, really long halls, inhaler long halls after so many years of dumb, a corner bend turned, Mom was in her chair along her wall outside her room along with the others, her hallmates, her friends, new friends, along equal walls in equal chairs for those of their equal own that might offer glimpses of recognition to their own someone’s turned corner, she raised an eye.

I hadn’t been here in so long I didn’t know what to expect from an awful son’s too long a time, but she raised an eye … to a me at that corner bend.

We were back in her little one bedroom place, with me on a couch, so many years ago when she saved me from my lost, when I would get home from that momentary “whatever job” then with a raised eye. “You still doing this Stephen? Really? She’s gone … not coming back. There’s more of life out there. You’ll find it.”

She raised an eye now, with a bit of twinkle in the glance.

“Hey Ma, yeah, it’s me, how about we go to dinner, thanksgiving, and guess what, someone else is going to do the cooking”

We wheeled into a big room, community space, a lots of tables room festooned with holiday and family and resident centerpieces in small faux glass blocks of plastic flowers and fake lit candles imagining a flourish, still an awful son but one that might yet grab a bit of some redemption.

She whispered wanted tell words in my left ear.

We grabbed a night’s light at a table with Mom’s roommate and her family best and had some fun.

I put on my hat.

Whisper with a point, to the hat with a cross look?

I took off my hat

Was just waitin’ for ya to notice Ma.

She raised an eye at me around a bend’s corner, end night, in her room, whispered, “This is what I wear” pointing to some folded nighties … “can you?”

Not me Ma, give me a sec, I noted to the nurse who had just walked in and I told her of some chocolate with a caramel crunch that mom was a fan of that I was leaving in her nightstand with the promise that she would help her.

As I grabbed my coat to leave, it was cold out there tonight, a one with a torn hoodie underneath, a really rattie one …

A furrowed, disapproving glare …

Just checkin’ twice.

“And I did find things Ma” in my own whisper in her right ear, “not everything, but enough for now” …

Love ya Ma