My folks are empty-nesters now, and have been for about 15 years, which means a) they are old, and b) I am, too.
We live on opposite sides of the world, so we don’t see each other often, but we try and get on skype often enough. And finally, my mum has gotten her shit together with Whatsapp and it now has phone calls. Which is awesome because we can talk on the cheap, and also she can help almost anytime I have a sewing question, which is almost anytime I am sewing. The annoying thing is, though, apart from the potentially constant stream of questions – which must be one of the reasons she would have been happy that I left home – that I probably answer my own questions before she has a chance to, except the question about which way the fabric should go on that whitish material… Mum, *eyebrows raised*.
Anyhoo, we rang for a chat yesterday and will skype today, but Mum will be back to the grindstone after that.
I remember buying presents for her from the school fete thst was always ill-timed for the amount of work the mums put into it on the dsy before Mother’s Day, but was well-timed for offspring who didn’t know how or what to buy for their mums except for the school fete. I’m sorry to day that I might just have bought a school-made cookbook for her every year for a while. I actually LOVE cookbooks, and maybe it’s because I have these hazy but cherished memories of buying cookbooks in the name of love. There are no school fetes in our future for a little while yet, at least, but I don’t mind blowing my nose on vintage hankies in the mean time, after getting dewy-eyed over hand-scrawled cards, because their writing really is getting better every day. Hopefully Mum will enjoy a nice of cup of tea with her feet up sans cookbooks, when her present finally arrives in the post.
Love you Mum. Happy Mother’s Day.