Rose

My phone rings. 5 times.
Machine picks up. Message plays.
She hears a beep. Pause:

"Hi Nanny!"

She's peppy and chipper.  And then she sings the song:

"Oh, you're never, never home.  You're never never home.  Why the heck aren't you,  never ever home?"

You know the tune. Her confusion sets in:

"Nanny?  WHERE are you?  Where can you be at 8:30 in the morning?  Oh wait, you're at schoooool!  Nooo, it's Saturday! You can't be at school!"

It's summer vacation.  For her, days drift from one to the next. Wake up. Get Dad out of bed. Change the bed. Toss the plastic bag of soiled clothes clear across the kitchen floor like a bowling ball, proud to make it all the way to the washer. Routines. Get his pills. Test his blood. Make him breakfast. Make him walk.  Wake him up. Let him sleep.  Feed him lunch. Change his Depends. Run errands. Go the the pharmacy. Take him.  Don't take him.  Deal with bills.  Deal with health care.  Deal with life. Make him dinner.  Wait for "My Stevie." Watch TV.  Jeopardy.  Wheel of Fortune. Get Dad ready for bed. Yell at him.  Don't yell at him.  It matters little, if any at all. Or it matters more than life.

She still does not realize that this is my cell phone, so I can't pick up.   She continues:

"Well, alright.  Call me.  I wanted to talk to my girlie. And I'm sending you a check.  DON'T YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME.  I also wanted to know if Liam ever cashed that check I sent him."

He didn't.  She never sent it. It fell behind her bed.  She doesn't know it yet, but she will. And finally:

"Call your mother. I wanna talk to you. Tell everyone I love them.  Gotta go get Daddy poopie pants out of bed.  Bye Nanny."

Dad's incontinent.

Bye mom.

                                                        Mom with the love of her life.