Night Mom

Phoned Mother Mary today. 5:15pm and she’s already tucked up in bed in her room in frailcare. As always, she’s positive. She says, ‘I’m warm and comfy, I’ve had my eyedrops, and I’m ready to sleep. They’ll give me my sleeping tablet soon.’

Then a story or two. Tonight it’s remembering her Granny Bland’s brother in Australia. ‘He went missing, you know. Wandered into the Outback and was never seen again. Alec Caskie.’

I remember my great granma, Granny Bland. I can see her lying in a high bed in her lovely big home in Stuart Street. I was about four or five when she died, so it could have been a normal-height bed, of course. She had been Mary Caskie; came here from Australia and married JFA Bland, lived a long life; buried her husband and all but one of her five sons.

Mary also had a concern tonight: ‘I’ve got such phlegm in my throat and when I hawk it up it sounds so unladylike!’

I sympathise with her. She wouldn’t like being unladylike.

‘Night mom. Lotsa love.’

‘Send my love to Jessie and Tommy.’

‘Will do.’

~~oo0oo~~