This afternoon I went downstairs planning to check the closet under the stairs for another puzzle. But my mom met me with a complaint: "He wants me to do the laundry," she said, glaring at my dad.
"Oh, I can help with that," I said, as I've been taking care of their small laundry needs for two weeks now.
My mother huffed into the bedroom and my dad motioned me to follow him into the bathroom where he explained that my mom had been having a confused time, hyper-focused on the non-issue of laundry.
It took only a few minutes for me to solve the laundry crisis by gathering their few soiled items, stripping their bed, and starting the wash cycle. But my mom did not look happy.
So I turned a 60-piece children's Rapunzel puzzle out of its box and asked her to help me with it. By the time we finished (five minutes later), her spirits were moving upward.
Next, I asked her to help me with the day's JUMBLE puzzle in the newspaper. Then I brought out the Methodist hymnal and asked her to leaf through the hymns.
When I mentioned one of my favorites, "This Is My Song," sung to "Finlandia," my dad said he wants that one played at his funeral. "Me too!" I said.
My mom laughed and said we could simplify things by having a double-funeral.
My dad then read the verses aloud, and we three church-going quasi-atheists, alone together in the basement, amid Covid-19 isolation, shared the hymn that will, hopefully, someday be played at our funerals.
Enough.
Stay well.
Write.
Allison
I absolutely love that last paragraph!
ReplyDeleteTyler and I talked of funerals yesterday, too. I said my only request was to have an excellent eulogist-- you were my example!