My mother used to ramble off topic when asked questions, beginning way back in her past and word-wandering back to connect to the future. When she lived with us I used to accompany her to her doctors’ appointments.

A doctor would ask her a question and I would brace for what her response would be. Let’s take the eye doctor who wanted a history of why she suffered blindness in one of her eyes due to a sudden rupture. On our first visit to this new doctor, he asked her when she started having problems with her eyes.

Mother started off with a story of what was happening somewhere around 40 years before that. As I rolled my eyes (hopefully sitting on the blind side), I knew this was her way to start her story of when she began noticing something was wrong. But I also knew the doctor didn’t want to listen to 40 years of her life to get to the point. So I’d cut her off and patiently asked her if she could tell him when her eye ruptured and move forward from that, basically eliminating 35 or more years. All my mother’s doctors’ appointments were like that and I went along more as a translator (or hurry upper) than transporter.

So how does this affect this particular blog? One recent morning when we were getting ready to go to a funeral I asked my husband, “What time do you want to leave?”.

Husband, “Well, Mass is at 10:00 o’clock.”

Me [pause], “What time do you want to leave?”

Husband, “It takes about 20 minutes to get there.”

Me [pause], “What time do you want to leave?”

Add to that there’s this conversation that happened today: “Are you working Sunday?”

Husband, “No, I work SUNDAY [his emphasis]!

Me [sigh, pause], “Are you working Sunday?”

Moral symbolic of many conversations, I think I married my mother!